The King Worthy of Emrys
by pumpkinmoose22
Summary: Arthur never would have thought he'd find his former servant Merlin in a place like this. The new king had to convince the warlock to return with him to Camelot. It shouldn't be too difficult to do. After all, who would rather stay in a brothel than return to the white city? NOT SLASH JUST BROMANCE.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all. It's been a while since I've written anything but a little plot bunny showed up and, despite not feeling physically at my best these past few months, I managed to create this. It's just meant to be a short story - about four chapters, at most. Hope you all enjoy it.**

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 **Chapter 01**

Camelot's courtyard was in chaos, servants and courtiers running for their lives while soldiers and knights of the realm desperately tried and failed to alleviate the threat currently attacking their citadel.

A squadron of brave souls rushed forward only to be blasted apart, the men screaming as their bodies flew backward and slammed into solid stone walls. To the right three knights were desperately trying to beat the flames away from one soldier who had been lit up like a pyre. Their efforts, however, proved useless; the man died seconds later, succumbing to the flames. Over thirty others had met a similar fate, their remains scattered about and burning on the cobblestones amidst those who were still fighting.

Merlin had been tasked with several other servants to carry the wounded to the infirmary where Gaius and Gwen bustled about tending to their injuries. Each time Merlin returned, another man was declared dead. When he spotted Leon lying on one of the cots with a bloody bandage over his arm, fear and determination gripped the young warlock like never before. He sought Gaius; the old physician currently in the process of resetting Sir Kay's left shoulder. The knight cried out in pain when the bones popped back into place, grimacing when told he needed to rest instead of being allowed back out into the courtyard.

"The prince needs all the help he can get!" Kay argued.

"You're not going anywhere," Gaius declared. "I may have fixed your shoulder but your ankle is severely sprained. If you continue to walk on it, the damage might end up leaving you crippled for life."

"But the prince –"

"Can manage," Gaius interrupted. "And if I see you attempting to crawl your way out of here, I'll drug you like I did Sir Brennor."

Kay looked over at the large knight who was indeed knocked out cold, his torso and right arm completely wrapped in bandages.

"Fine," Kay grumbled, settling down.

Gaius pat his shoulder before noticing Merlin. His ward gestured with his eyes towards a corner away from prying ears.

"This can't go on," Gaius muttered, observing several more bodies being brought in.

"I know," Merlin whispered. "Gaius, you and I both know there's no way Arthur and the knights are going to survive against three clearly powerful sorcerers. Half the courtyard has been destroyed already and I don't even want to think about the death count in the Lower Town."

"Merlin, please tell me you're not going to do what I think you are."

"If the only way to stop them is to reveal myself –"

"You can't!" Gaius cried, his eyes swirling with panic. "Ever since Morgana's betrayal Uther has declared that all sorcerers are to be killed on sight. You wouldn't get any kind of trial, Merlin. There would be no way for you to escape!"

"I'll figure something out. Gaius, if I don't stop them, everyone and everything we love will be dead before sunrise. I can't just stand back and do nothing when I have the power to end this."

The old man continued to argue. "There has to be another way."

Merlin shook his head sadly. "We don't have time to find one, Gaius."

The walls and floor of the castle suddenly began to shake. Dust and pieces of the ceiling broke loose and rained down upon them, chunks of rock falling on some of the wounded, increasing their injuries.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried in panic, leaving Gaius and rushing for the exit, dodging falling debris while trying to remain on his feet.

These sorcerers were some of the strongest he'd ever seen. Their combined efforts reminded him somewhat of the terror brought on by Cornelius Sigan. They'd come like phantoms in the night, destroying part of the outer wall before decimating the Lower Town and slaughtering anyone who got in their way. Arthur and the knights had been ready for them by the time they'd reached the citadel, having scrambled together as quickly as possible after hearing the warning bell. Their efforts to prevent the enemy from gaining entry to the rest of the castle had been successful so far but it was only temporary. They would soon be overrun. Merlin couldn't allow that to happen. He had to stop them at all costs.

Though stumbling a few times, the warlock managed to make it back out into the courtyard, avoiding stepping on a few people who'd fallen over in the earthquake. The sorcerers were on the opposite side of the square, their eyes a constant yellow as they threw spells and fought off close range enemies with the sword. Merlin noticed with displeasure that the ground around them wasn't moving at all. Using a counter spell, he stopped the earthquake and quickly scanned the area for Arthur. That's when he noticed Lancelot and Gwaine gathered around a pile of rubble, desperately trying to move the large rocks. Merlin caught a glimpse of golden hair amidst the wreckage and his heart stopped.

" _ARTHUR!"_

"Merlin, what –"

Merlin pushed Gwaine out of the way and pain-filled blue eyes met his panicked ones from the rubble.

"Merlin?! What on earth are you doing here?" Arthur ground out through clenched teeth. "Get inside, you idiot, before you get hurt!"

Ignoring him, Merlin assessed the prince's state. Most of him was covered in minor cuts and bruises but his sword arm…

It was buried under the largest chunk of rock and was most certainly crushed beyond repair.

Rage consumed the warlock and his hands shook as he twisted around to face the sorcerers. Arthur had lost his arm. Because of _them_ , his king had been damaged.

Something snapped inside of him and Merlin's eyes burned a brilliant gold. Turning back to Lancelot and Gwaine, he ignored their gasps and commanded, "Protect my king," before stepping away and running determinedly towards the men who dared injure his destiny.

Power like he never felt before consumed him, lighting his body and boiling his blood. In that moment he felt like he could do anything. His magic, swirling in his veins, waited with anxious excitement to be used.

A fireball flew towards him but Merlin swatted it away with a flick of his wrist. Ignoring the stunned look on the older sorcerer's face, he flung his hand out, his magic exploding from his fingertips and wrapping around the man like a spider wrapping its prey within its web. One of his comrades tried to come to the rescue, throwing a curse in Merlin's direction. The nefarious spell slammed into an invisible shield surrounding the warlock, shattering it on impact like broken glass. Merlin didn't even notice the attempted attack. Still focused on his current captive, he quickly closed his fist and the sorcerer wrapped within the golden cage screamed before exploding into a pile of ash.

Terrified over what had just happened to their companion, the two other sorcerers abandoned their cause and tried to make a run for it. Merlin downed the first one with a collection of ice spears, the pointed weapons slicing through the man's back and pinning him to the cobblestones. His last target was almost near the doors when Merlin slammed his palms into the floor, his magic shooting into the earth and commanding the deep roots to break through the thick stone and grab the sorcerer's ankles. The man screamed in terror before being forcibly pulled under the surface, his body disappearing into the earth.

Stunned silence filled the courtyard. Nobody moved. The only noise came from the moaning of the injured and dying and the faint crackle of flames consuming those already dead. A moment passed and then Merlin stood, making his way back to where Arthur lay, ignoring the horrified looks of the knights scattered throughout the area. The prince's face was a combination of horror, surprise, and awe as he watched Merlin approach him. Gwaine and Lancelot backed away.

" _Get away from him, sorcerer!"_

Merlin glanced to his left. Halfway down the steps was the King of Camelot, Uther Pendragon – a minor irritant. Ignoring the command, Merlin waved his hand and the rock crushing Arthur's arm simply vanished. Too stunned to move, the prince watched as Merlin crouched down and touched his arm, running his forefinger from the shoulder all the way down to his hand.

"Honestly," Merlin muttered, "Can't I have one day without having to save your royal backside? I'm usually rubbish with healing spells but I feel this time this one will work. There; your arm should be back to normal in a few days. Try not to move it though."

Arthur just stared at him in bewilderment and shock. As the spell did its work, Merlin's magic seemed to retract, his eyes slowly losing their golden hue. He suddenly felt bone-tired.

"What have you done to him?" Uther cried, rushing forward with sword in hand.

Fighting back the desire to keel over in exhaustion, Merlin stepped back and addressed the king. "I healed him – though I'm sure I'll hear no thanks from you."

Uther's eyes filled with rage. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded to Lancelot and Gwaine. "Kill him!"

But Gwaine and Lancelot didn't move. Several other knights, however, did. Surging forward with their swords raised, Merlin prepared himself for the worst.

"Merlin, get out of here!" Lancelot shouted while blocking a strike from Sir Gregory.

"No."

"What? Why?" Gwaine demanded, joining Lancelot in protecting the warlock from being skewered by an outraged Sir Maxwell.

"Arthur needs me."

"I don't need help from a _sorcerer!"_

The words wounded Merlin more than any other. Ignoring the conflict playing out before him while Uther continued to scream for his blood, he turned towards his king.

"I don't need help from the likes of _you,"_ Arthur growled, wincing as he forced himself to his feet, his right arm remaining limp and useless at his side.

"Arthur –"

"Get out of here, Merlin!" he snarled, pushing the warlock away with his left hand. Merlin stumbled, his eyes wide. "I never want to see you in Camelot again. If you return, I'll kill you myself."

Merlin reached his hand forward, hurt and disbelief written all over his face. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He _couldn't_ leave. Arthur needed him. He was his destiny.

But the hatred swirling within the prince's eyes was like a dagger to his heart. Tears clouded his vision.

"Arthur –"

" _LEAVE!"_

[][][]

Merlin woke with a gasp, his body covered in sweat, his heart pounding uncomfortably fast in his chest.

Taking a shuttering breath, he sat up, the covers falling from his bare chest and slumping around his waist. Rubbing his face, he paused but was unsurprised to find tears on his cheeks. Sighing, he wiped his face dry before standing up, shivering slightly from the chill. Walking across the stone floor, he opened his door just enough to snatch the freshly laundered clothes he was meant to wear for the day before closing it again.

The bundle in his arms contained a pair of loose black pants, a tight blue shrug that would cover his arms and shoulder blades, and a tight leather necklace. Merlin sighed in resignation. One would think that after eight months Nenari would change up his style; the other men got to wear a variety of clothes but he was stuck showing off his torso for all to see. Setting the clothing aside, he secured a towel to his waist and left for the bathhouse.

The sun was barely beginning to rise as Merlin walked down the quiet hall, nodding to Laura and Rosaline as he passed.

"Morning you two," he said, sending them a warm smile.

"Merlin, up already?" asked Laura.

"Aren't I always?"

"Yes but business doesn't start for another two hours. Why not lie in for once?" Rosaline said while setting down a set of clothes outside Jeromy's door.

Merlin shrugged. "You know me. I hate being idle."

The two girls chuckled before returning to their work. Merlin's smile slipped from his face when he turned the corner and headed down the stairs. Reaching the back door, he opened it and crossed through the beautiful garden to the bathhouse where steam was already pouring from the top. Thomas, a young lad around the age of twelve, was busy stoking the fire outside.

"Morning Merlin," he called.

"Hello, Thomas. How are you?"

"Great! Galahad said he was going to show me how to throw knives today!"

"Really?" Merlin said, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm, "Just make sure you aim for the right target."

Thomas stuck out his tongue. "I'm sure I'll manage. You should worry about getting ready before the bathhouse is overcrowded. I know how uncomfortable you get when the girls show up."

Merlin's smile faltered a little as he glanced over his shoulder. "Right; see you later then."

One would think that after being forced to work in this place he'd be used to seeing naked men and women but Merlin wasn't. Letting out a heavy sigh, he entered the bathhouse and set to work cleaning himself up for the day. Once finished, he headed back to the main house, passing several people on their way to bathe. Most of the girls smiled at him but some of the men, including Jeromy, eyed him with the usual glare. Merlin ignored them. He knew they were jealous of him but he couldn't exactly help the fact that he was the most sought after male in the brothel.

Returning to his room, he found breakfast already waiting; a warm roll, several slices of cheese, and an egg. Dressing in the scanty material he was forced to wear, he sat down at the small table and started to eat. He was halfway through his meal when someone knocked on the door. It opened a second later to reveal the Mistress of the House, Nenari.

Nenari was an older woman in her early fifties, her long hair braided and pinned to her head like some kind of crown. She always wore dresses fitting a woman of lower nobility but still rather refined, her ears and neck decked out with jewelry. Several rings adorned her hands and large bracelets hid her wrists. Her eyes reminded Merlin of a hawk, sharp and fierce, her personality kind but stern. She was a business woman, having been the owner of the largest most successful brothel in Essetir for over twenty years.

"Good morning, Mistress," Merlin greeted, standing and bowing low to her.

"How is my favorite gem today?" Nenari asked, patting his head with fondness. Merlin stood straight as she inspected him from head to foot. "You have shadows under your eyes, Merlin. Trouble sleeping?"

"A little," he admitted.

Nenari pressed her lips together. "Well, we can't have that, can we? I'll close your availability an hour after sunset today. I can't have you looking unwell."

Merlin really didn't want the evening free but he couldn't argue with her. He wasn't allowed to, being her slave.

"You have quite a list of customers today," Nenari continued. "I expect you to do as you've always done and satisfy our lords and ladies with whatever requests they desire."

"Of course, Mistress," Merlin said, inclining his head.

The elder woman sent him a warm smile before heading back to the door. "Lord Randal should be here in half an hour. Make sure you're prepared to receive him."

"Yes, Mistress."

Nenari left and Merlin's docile persona disappeared, his lip curling in disgust. Lord Randal. He _hated_ that man. Groaning, he sat down and finished his food, silently wallowing over his current lot. He was ashamed of what he had become and prayed to every higher power that he'd never be found here by anyone from his former life. Setting his empty tray outside his room for Laura or Rosaline to pick up, he shut his door and flopped down on his bed, his mind caught up in the dream.

It was the worst memory of Merlin's life which, of course, meant he relived it more than any other within his dreams.

He'd done as Arthur commanded all those months ago, leaving him amidst the rubble and fleeing Camelot with the knights in pursuit. His magic had protected him from their attacks, successfully hiding him within the trees, content to keep him alive even though all Merlin wanted to do was die because Arthur's hatred had torn apart his soul, leaving him broken and scarred in a way he never thought he'd be able to survive.

When the slave traders found him a week later, he'd let them take him without complaint. His life was meaningless now anyway. He was taken to Essetir and immediately sold to Nenari, tossed into a world he knew existed but never thought he'd be a part of. When faced with his first customer, a strong man in Lot's military force, Merlin's magic had once again become his salvation.

It reacted due to his panic, shielding him from a terrible fate by creating an illusion so powerful the man believed his fantasies of violating Merlin were actually happening. For one panicked moment Merlin thought he'd trapped the soldier within his own mind but after twenty minutes the glossy look left his eyes and he stood, leaving the room with a satisfied grin.

Horrified over what he'd just done, Merlin had shuddered and almost made a vow to never use his magic in that way again but when the door opened to reveal a noble woman with lust-filled eyes, he made a quick decision. If he was going to survive in this place without being violated, he'd have to use his gift in a way he'd never considered before: he'd have to manipulate the human mind. Repulsed over his choice, the warlock cast another spell, allowing his magic to paint whatever illusion the woman wanted while he remained safely untouched in the corner.

Thus his new life began.

Every day he used his magic to create false scenarios for his customers, each one believing they defiled him and received the pleasure their natural bodies craved at the end of their session.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Merlin wanted nothing more than to die of shame. Never would he have believed he'd use his magic for anyone but Arthur. But using it in this way was keeping his mind and body from being tainted, even if part of him felt wrong for manipulating his customers. Still, he'd rather that they _thought_ they were touching him instead of having them actually doing so.

The only problem with the illusions was that they satisfied his customers so much that he'd become the most desired slave in the brothel. He was on such high demand that Nenari had a special schedule just for him, his days completely booked by eager lords and ladies desiring to have him for themselves. A few had even tried to buy him but Nenari never gave in, always unsatisfied with their offered prices. She made more money off Merlin than any other slave she owned and was therefore understandably reluctant to trade her 'favorite gem.'

Merlin was pulled from his thoughts when his door suddenly opened to reveal his first customer for the day, Lord Randal. The man was lean, tall, and in his early forties with a disgusting belief that Merlin belonged to him. Hating what he had to do, Merlin stood up and bowed to the lord, starting the usual routine of removing the man's boots. As he moved to set the boots aside, his eyes lit with gold, beginning the illusion. Leaving the lord to his disgusting fantasies, Merlin sat down at his desk and pulled a thin bowl towards him. He filled it with water and willed his magic to show him Camelot.

Ever since his exile, the warlock was able to perform any spell he wished without a word. He often wondered why he suddenly had such full access to his powers but was thankful for it all the same because it allowed him to do things he'd never thought he'd be able to do before – like creating illusions that protected his virtue.

Shortly after arriving at the brothel, Merlin had come to the conclusion that even if Arthur didn't want him in his life anymore, it was still his destiny to serve and protect him. So he'd tried out the art of scrying, successful in his first attempt and terrified by what he saw.

Arthur had been in the middle of what was clearly a bandit attack, his men fighting valiantly on either side of him but unable to see what Merlin could: an arrow flying right towards the prince's neck. Merlin had reacted instinctively and somehow, miraculously – though he was over a hundred miles away – the arrow was destroyed before it could kill his friend.

After that experience the warlock nearly left the brothel and returned to Camelot, command or not to stay away. But the reminder of Arthur's hatred stopped him. He was also afraid of what the prince would think of him now that he'd been reduced to nothing but a pleasure slave. Resigned by these two fears Merlin stayed where he was. He didn't, however, leave Arthur defenseless.

When it grew too taxing on his magic to daily scry and maintain the illusions for his customers, Merlin came up with a better way for keeping his king safe. Though Arthur might hate him for it, he'd fashioned a simple silver ring with a protection charm that, once placed on the sovereign's finger, would remain unless Merlin himself removed it. He'd sealed the protection charm with his blood, fusing a portion of his magic into the metal by so doing. Once the ring was fashioned, he used magic to transport it to Camelot right onto Arthur's finger. It had been rather amusing scrying the prince the next day, watching him struggle with the ring for several minutes before giving up trying to get it off.

Merlin felt the ring activate about a week after giving it to Arthur and scried him again, watching as his protection spell mobilized in the middle of a melee, blasting back a man who had tried to stab the prince from behind. As he looked on the fallen man, Arthur developed a calculated expression and surveyed the crowd before shaking his head and returning to the fight.

After that, every time Merlin felt the ring activate, he'd scry his prince and watch as his defensive spell saved him. A smile would always climb his cheeks when Arthur would walk away unscathed. It was the only true smile the warlock would have now-a-days.

Sure, he'd give small smiles to the brothel's staff but they would always be tinted with sadness. Laura, Rosaline, Thomas, Galahad, and several others he interacted with were _free_ – paid servants who had lives and homes away from the brothel. He, like the other slaves, lived in a small room with company he didn't really want and limited interaction with the rest of the members of the house.

The only outside scenery Merlin ever got to see anymore was the gardens on his walk to the bathhouse. He hadn't been in a forest in eight months. He missed the trees, the earth, the sun, the stars. He missed the days when he could ride out with Arthur and the knights on patrols and adventures. He even missed joining the Prat on his hunting trips! Merlin's eyes filled with tears, thinking of those things and so many others; a life he no longer was privileged to have.

Lord Randal, having finished his imaginary business, sat up and let out a sigh of satisfaction. Merlin stood and fetched his boots, ending the illusion as he came back to place them on the lord's feet. Lord Randal promised to see him again soon and left. Merlin shuddered and set to work removing the sheets from his bed, tossing them into a bin near the door. It was his job to replace the sheets between sessions. If he failed to do so and a customer complained, Nenari would punish him. She never whipped him like the others (he being her number one selling item) but he'd had his fair share of other punishments; like having to sleep naked outside in the gardens for a month. That had been during his rebellious phase, about a month after he'd come to the brothel. Galahad, the brothel's guardian, had talked some sense into him then, telling him that it was easier to make do with his new life and move forward than to become bitter and resentful of his situation.

Galahad was a good man. In some ways, he reminded Merlin of Lancelot. It was his job to keep the customers in line. Anyone who physically damaged Nenari's property beyond her standard rules was seen to by him. The man was tall, strong, and looked upon as a protector by all within the brothel's walls. Even Merlin had had to be rescued by him when a lord refused to leave after their session was over; he'd sprained Merlin's wrist when the warlock had tried to escape the room. Thomas had heard the scuffle and alerted Galahad who arrived before the lord could do further damage. Merlin would have used his magic in defense but he didn't dare reveal that he had it; Nenari had all of her sorcerers bound with restraints that sealed off their magic and he couldn't afford to lose the one thing that protected him.

Replacing the sheets with a new set in his store cupboard, Merlin sat down on the bed and prepared for his next customer. A couple of minutes later someone knocked and the door opened to reveal Lady Olivia, a fashionable noblewoman who had lost her husband when Cenred was king. Out of all his clients, Lady Olivia was the strangest. She liked to share the latest gossip in King Lot's court before starting anything physical with him.

"Merlin, how are you, my pet?"

"Well, my lady," he replied as he allowed her to kiss his cheek.

The two sat side by side on the bed and Merlin prepared himself to receive an earful about Essetir's latest scandals. He was therefore unprepared when Lady Olivia didn't begin with her usual account of what was going on between Lady Katherine and Lord Brennick but instead shared news hailing from another kingdom.

"I'm afraid I bring _dreadful_ tidings. I've been in the country, you see, or I would have known sooner."

"Is that why I haven't seen you for about two months?" Merlin asked, smiling politely.

Lady Olivia smirked and stroked his knee. Merlin tried not to cringe or flinch under her touch. "Missed me, have you?" she leered.

"But of course," Merlin lied, pretending to play along. "Now, what is this news?"

The lady removed her hand and he inwardly sighed in relief.

"Apparently King Uther of Camelot _died_ shortly after I went on holiday and his son, Arthur, now reigns in his stead!"

Merlin felt like someone had punched him right in the gut.

" _What?_ " he gasped.

"I know! Terrible, isn't it? Especially since Uther was _murdered_ by an assassin. Poor thing, killed in his own bed in the middle of the night! The little time I spent in Camelot was years ago when my husband participated in a tourney. I didn't think anything of Uther but his son, Arthur, well, no offense to you, Merlin, but I would love to bed _that_ man. I'm sure an experience with him would be _glorious!_ "

Merlin nearly choked over such a terrible thought.

"Too bad he's gone and announced he is to wed a serving girl," Lady Olivia continued, unaware of Merlin's inner horror from her last comment.

The warlock shook himself and squawked, "Wait, _what?"_

"That's right! It's the biggest scandal everyone is talking about! A king marrying a servant; who would have thought?"

Arthur was king.

Arthur was going to marry Gwen.

A huge smile lit Merlin's face. "I think it's brilliant!" he cried.

Lady Olivia chuckled and squeezed his hand. "I'm sure you would. Marrying anyone above your station would be a dream come true for you, wouldn't it? Too bad you're a slave and unable to marry anyone. But don't worry, my dear, I will give you plenty of love."

Sensing that the gossip was now over, Merlin froze time for a second in order to stand up and get out of the way, allowing the lady's illusion to start once he was safe. Walking over to his desk he focused on everything the woman had just revealed. Being a pleasure slave stuck inside these walls, the only news Merlin usually received was from her. But he'd scried Arthur several times in the last two months and hadn't had a clue that the man was now king.

How had he not known Uther was dead? He knew there had been times he'd looked in on Arthur and noticed he was down but he didn't know he was actually _mourning_. Merlin felt awful not being there to comfort him in his time of need but at least his best friend was now free to pursue Gwen the way he wanted to. A large smile climbed his face and Merlin closed his eyes as both happiness and regret filled his heart; happiness for his friends and regret for being unable to celebrate with them in their good fortune.

The feelings followed him the rest of the day while the various lords and ladies enjoyed their illusions within his room. Since coming to the brothel, this was the best news he'd ever received.

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 **More to come soon! Please leave a review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, thank you all so much for showing such interest in this story. It truly means a lot. I forgot to put the disclaimer in the first chapter (oops) so here it is for the second.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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 **Chapter 02**

"Alnwick, the finest city in Essetir," Gwaine praised as Arthur and the others joined him at the top of the hill overlooking the vast establishment.

"Why do you say that?" asked Elyan while Arthur eyed the large city below.

"Because of the tavern and brothel of course!" Gwaine laughed.

Arthur grimaced, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Fighting the temptation to push the rogue out of his saddle, he settled for berating him instead.

"Knights do not frequent brothels, Gwaine!"

"Of course they don't," Gwaine sighed. "Why do you think I spend all my time flirting with the castle maids instead?"

"You-are-a- _knight_!" Leon ground out in horror.

"Leave it, Leon," Arthur grumbled. "There's no use trying to change a man who is already set in his ways."

Gwaine grinned and tipped his head to him. "Indeed there isn't, princess!"

Arthur's teeth ground together at the nickname. He let it slide as he always did, however, resigned because it was a waste of energy to reprimand Gwaine for insulting him so.

"Thanks to being attacked by those bandits at first light, we're in dire need of supplies," he said instead. "I want to get what we need and get out of the city as quickly as possible. Remember not to draw any attention to yourselves; we're technically not supposed to be here."

The six of them guided their horses away from the hilltop and made their way back to the main road. Dressed like your average traveler with no indication they were from Camelot let alone knights, Arthur led the group into the city towards the market.

Camelot's new king had to admit that Alnwick was striking. It was the capital city of Essetir after all, Lot's castle standing out like a beacon, the dark stone as black as ebony even in the sunlight. A river ran through the northern part of the city providing the people with a sufficient water supply as well as serving a way to cart goods quickly from one end of town to the other.

The streets were full of merchants selling anything from food to people, the latter much to Arthur and the knights' disgust. Slavery was banned within Camelot but some of the neighboring kingdoms felt differently about the practice. Arthur couldn't understand why anyone would think it right to take away an innocent person's freedom. Shaking his head mournfully at the spectacle of human trafficking, he pushed his way through the crowds until he reached the local inn and tavern, The Black Swan. Dismounting, he handed the reins of his horse to a servant who led his mare into the nearby stables.

"Fancying a pint?" Gwaine guessed.

"We've been traveling for three days, Gwaine," Arthur replied. "I think it's proper to finally have a decent meal, don't you?"

"If the meal includes ale," the rogue grinned.

The six of them headed inside. The inn was large, the space cozy and warm and fairly vacant for the morning. Arthur picked a table in the corner where it was easiest to keep an eye on his surroundings. He may not be here to cause trouble but that didn't mean there wouldn't be any; he'd learned long ago that anything could happen in a tavern.

"What can I get you gents?" asked a barmaid.

"Six tankards of mead, please," Gwaine enthusiastically answered.

"As well as whatever meal you're serving for the day," Lancelot added.

"Coming right up," the barmaid said, her eyes lingering specifically on Percival before walking away.

"Watch out, Percival," Elyan grinned, "You might have an admirer."

The large knight blushed but, as usual, kept his thoughts to himself.

After their meal – and forcing Gwaine away from his third round of ale – Arthur ordered the men to split up and gather supplies. Leon and Gwaine were to head to the smithy to repair their weapons and Elyan and Percival were to stay near the horses while the king and Lancelot replenished their food supply.

"We'll meet back here in an hour," Arthur stated before the groups split off.

Wandering through the market, Arthur observed that while the people seemed to be in a poorer state than his own, they were still cheerful, greeting each other and laughing as they shopped for their wares. Little children ran freely in the streets, playing with balls made from rolled up material and rope while their mothers shopped. Servants and slaves followed their masters, burdened with purchases. A pang ran through Arthur's heart at the latter sight. He hadn't realized he'd stopped to watch one servant being berated by his lord until Lancelot rested a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find him," he muttered, knowing exactly who Arthur was thinking about.

The new king shook his head. "We've been looking for weeks. He wasn't in any village in Camelot or even Ealdor. Hunith hasn't seen him. I fear something terrible has happened to him. What if he's…?"

"You know he isn't," Lancelot answered. "Your ring would not have stopped those bandits this morning if that were so."

Arthur looked down at his magic ring and frowned. It had taken him weeks to figure out where the atrocity had even come from. Though he didn't know how Merlin had slipped the stupid thing on his finger, he had come to appreciate the gift with all his heart. He had been terrified the first time it had saved his life during the melee. The second time, during a bandit raid, he'd become suspicious. When it had protected him from a rogue serket in the woods, however, he knew. The blatant magic that had killed the serket felt exactly like Merlin and Arthur could deny no longer that his ex-manservant-turned-sorcerer was somehow still holding true to his word of saving his life.

Thankfully the knights that bore witness to these events never revealed to the king that his son was being protected by magic. As Uther's unstable madness of killing anyone even suspected of sorcery grew, the knights allegiance and loyalty turned completely from him to Arthur. By the time the king died and Arthur was crowned, every knight in the realm held a friendlier stance towards magic, each having witnessed at some point the protection of Merlin's ring.

Arthur twisted the ring on his finger. "I just hope that it never stops working."

Both feared what it would mean if it did. Gaius had hypothesized that the ring was somehow tied to Merlin – as long as the warlock lived so would the ring's protection – and in the ways of magic, the old physician's assumptions were usually on point.

"Come on," Lancelot encouraged, "the sooner we get our supplies, the sooner we can be back on the road looking for him."

They were picking out a bunch of apples when a nearby conversation between two girls caught Arthur's attention, freezing him in place.

"I honestly can't believe you, saving half your wages every month just so you can have a session with Merlin some day," said the one with long auburn hair, teasing her friend as she examined a pear.

"You can't tell me _you_ haven't been doing the same thing, Rosaline," her dark haired companion retorted. "I've seen the way you look at him."

Rosaline rolled her eyes. "Laura, _everyone_ looks at him like that. I overheard Nenari saying the other day that even _she_ was considering booking a session."

"Please, Nenari isn't about to associate herself with her own property."

Arthur paled _. Property?_

"Though she wants to," Rosaline giggled.

Laura swatted her companion. "Come on, we need to get back. Nenari will have our heads if we're late."

"I hope Merlin likes pears," Rosaline muttered, paying the merchant for the fruit before rushing off with her friend.

Arthur abandoned the apple stand without hesitation, Lancelot mirroring him. It didn't take a genius to figure out the context of the girls' conversation. Arthur felt like he was going to be sick.

 _Maybe it's a different Merlin,_ he said to himself as he followed the girls. _Maybe you've got it all wrong. There's nothing to worry about, right?_

He came to a crashing halt when the girls entered what was unmistakably a brothel. Lancelot let out a heavy curse.

"We might be wrong," Arthur said, his voice trembling as he spoke his thoughts. "It could be someone else."

"Sire," Lancelot began hesitantly, "though I do not wish to think it, Merlin's… _physique_ … it fits with this kind of profession."

Arthur didn't want to agree but Lancelot was right. Merlin wasn't large but lithe, his structure more on the softer side, a side that Arthur could easily see being lusted after by men and women with little to no honor. If his magic was bound, he wouldn't be able to fight back for long -if at all- in such precarious circumstances. Overcome with terror, the young king practically sprinted into the brothel.

"Arthur!" Lancelot cried, following after him.

The interior was large and clean, a rug of intricate patterns rolled out over the cobblestone floor. Paintings of different woodlands hung on the walls and tall potted plants stood in the corners. A young woman stood behind a greeting counter currently speaking to an older gentleman while several lords and ladies lounged in waiting chairs chatting with their fellows, waiting their turn to go into the back for their scheduled sessions. Arthur marched up to the counter, disgust written all over his face as he witnessed a fat nobleman with a flushed countenance leave through the large open doorway leading further back into the brothel. If that man had just finished having his way with Merlin, and it was _his_ Merlin, he'd kill him. He'd kill every last person who dared touch his manservant.

Tapping his foot furiously, Arthur waited until the older gentleman at the counter concluded his business. The girl behind the desk scribbled something on a piece of parchment before smiling up at him at his approach.

"How can I help you, sir?"

How could she be so cheerful in this house of horrors? Did she not have any sense of honor? Of dignity?

"I overheard that a man named Merlin is one of your…"

"Pleasures?" the girl offered when the king found himself floundering to come up with any word to describe this atrocious profession.

The title made Arthur's skin crawl but he reluctantly nodded. "Yes."

The girl smiled. "I'm sure you heard nothing but good things about him. He's the best we have to offer. But I'm afraid that if you want to schedule a session with _him_ you'll have to wait until next month. We should have an opening in about five weeks."

Arthur's jaw hit the floor. There was absolutely _no way_ that the man this woman spoke of was his manservant. While he, reluctantly, had to admit that Merlin wasn't necessarily the worst to look upon, he couldn't see people desiring him in this magnitude. Still, he couldn't just leave without at least seeing this establishment's Merlin for himself. But there was no way he was going to wait five weeks to do so.

"Is there any way I can see what he looks like before…" he swallowed, his voice grinding out the last few words, "before scheduling an appointment?"

"Certainly," the girl said brightly, "we keep portraits of all our Pleasures. Mind you, several have tried to purchase Merlin's but I'm afraid none of the portraits are for sale. Here we are. Handsome thing, isn't he?"

Arthur tried not to look sick as he shared a glance with a rather disturbed Lancelot. Though the painting wasn't perfect, it was enough evidence for them both. It was Merlin but he was clothed in a way Arthur never would have wished to see.

"Sire…" Lancelot croaked, horrified.

Arthur leaned against the counter, his head bowed and his eyes shut. He vaguely heard the girl asking him a question but his inner disgust and revulsion was so deep he didn't comprehend what she said.

Merlin… How on earth had this happened? And, more importantly, how long had he been here?

"I need to get him out," Arthur whispered.

"Excuse me, but if you're not going to do business then I suggest you move so the rest of us can," someone snarled behind him.

Arthur filled with rage and turned around, eyeing the short little nobleman in front of him with a stare that could kill. The man swallowed and backed up, apologizing immediately.

"Is there a problem here?"

Arthur turned to see a young man about his and Lancelot's age, clad in dark trousers and a green tunic, staring them down with a scowl. His face and posture were easy to identify as those belonging to a warrior, the minor scars visible on his arms attesting to previously survived duels. He had a knife and sword strapped to his belt and his demeanor sent out a message that he was not one to cross. Arthur, however, was not intimidated.

"I would like to speak with the owner of this establishment," the king declared.

The man raised a curious brow. "Are you here to file a complaint?"

"No. I wish to discuss the welfare of one of your _Pleasures_ ," he spat out the last word, hating the fact that he had to associate such a title with Merlin.

The man eyed Arthur a moment more before shrugging and turning to the girl. "Hannah, fetch Nenari."

The girl nodded, eyeing Arthur warily before rushing out a side door. A minute later she returned with an older woman in her early fifties whose fierce demeanor reminded Arthur of Queen Annis of Caerleon.

"May I help you?"

"Are you the owner of this brothel?"

"I am. Hannah informs me that you wish to discuss one of my Pleasures. Have you had a negative experience?"

"No," Arthur curtly replied. "I have never before associated myself with such business." He glanced behind him at their audience before lowering his voice and mustering his anger into a more controlled tone, muttering, "I wondered if we could discuss Merlin, my lady."

The woman looked him up and down, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Are you a businessman?"

"You could say that."

"Then we should speak privately," she stated. "Please leave your guard and your weapons here. We have a policy against such things."

Arthur didn't like the idea of going into an environment unarmed but for Merlin he didn't hesitate removing his sword and dagger, handing them to a rather concerned Lancelot. He then gestured for the owner to lead him along, following her through the open doorway into a hall that was lit with sunlight. Several doors they passed were closed but the noises coming from behind them made Arthur sick with both worry and disgust. One of those could be Merlin. Repulsed, he forced himself onward, following the woman into a large sitting room.

Once both were seated the lady threaded her fingers together. "If we are to do business, I feel it appropriate to make introductions. My name is Nenari."

Normally in such circumstances Arthur would never reveal his true identity but, for a matter such as this, only his title would successfully remove Merlin from this horrifying prison – and he'd be hanged if he had to leave him here now that he'd finally found him. Reaching into the hidden pocket of his trousers Arthur pulled out his signet ring and stated his name with pride.

"Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot."

Nenari's eyes widened as she beheld his seal, her mouth dropping open in surprise. "Your Majesty, forgive me," she said, quickly rising to curtsy. "I did not know who you were."

"Then I did well in my choice of dress," Arthur smirked, indicating for her to sit. "I assume that you understand the delicacy of my situation and will refrain from spreading this knowledge to anyone else."

"Of course, sire," she said at once. "If I may be so bold, what is your interest in Merlin?"

"I wish to remove him from this place."

Nenari hesitated. "Your Majesty, you must understand, Merlin brings in most of my customers. He is highly sought after."

"I understand," he said though he was still having difficulties fathoming that fact. "But I am most insistent. I'm afraid I will not leave here until you allow him into my custody."

"And I'm afraid to say that I've already promised to sell him to Lord Randal," Nenari reluctantly revealed. "The man is the most powerful in Essetir besides King Lot himself and has promised me enough coin to pay off all my debts and live comfortably until the day I die. With such a promise I fear I cannot do business with you."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. There was no way he was going to allow some pompous lord to claim ownership over his friend.

"Have you already made the exchange with this man?"

"Not yet. He's going to provide the money tomorrow."

"Whatever he has promised you, I will pay ten times over."

Nenari choked _. "Excuse me?"_

"I am willing to pay ten times the amount he promised," Arthur repeated. "May I inquire as to how much is he willing to give?"

"A thousand gold pieces, Sire."

"Then my offer is ten thousand gold pieces," he declared before leaning forward and muttering, "I will not allow anyone else to have Merlin, my lady. If it comes down to it, I will fight for him until the last breath leaves my body."

"But you've never even bedded the man!" Nenari protested, her posture and tone becoming somewhat defensive. "Lord Randal has been seeing Merlin for nearly eight months. I can trust him to take care of him. Forgive me, sire, but I know next to nothing about you or how you will treat him. Even if you offered all the gold in your coffers I can't, in good conscience, sell Merlin to you."

"You don't understand," Arthur snapped angrily, "Merlin was _my_ servant before he came to be here!"

Nenari's eyes widened _. "Your_ servant?"

" _Yes!_ There was a misunderstanding that resulted in him having to flee Camelot. I would have sought him out sooner but, due to certain circumstances, I haven't been able to leave the citadel until now."

Nenari stared at him for a moment before her eyes narrowed playfully. "This misunderstanding wasn't due to a compromising relationship between the two of you, was it?"

" _What?! No!"_ Arthur cried in disgust, flabbergast by her implication. Incensed, he continued, "Madam, I would have you know that my relationship with Merlin is one hundred percent _platonic!_ The important thing for you to understand is that he is _my_ servant and I'm here to collect him."

Despite the fact that he spoke to her in his highest tone of authority, Nenari was not intimidated. Folding her arms, she leaned back in her chair.

"And what if Merlin does not wish to go with you? What if he'd rather serve Lord Randal?"

Arthur raised one golden eyebrow. "You actually care about what Merlin wants?"

"I've grown rather fond of him," she confessed. "And I admit I'm curious to know who he favors more: the master who cast him out or the lord who has shown him love since he came here." She paused to silently study the king before continuing, "Regardless, you _have_ presented a higher sum than Lord Randal and therefore I'm inclined to consider your offer. However, I will admit that Merlin's opinion will hold weight in whatever decision I make. As I said before, in my own way I care for his wellbeing."

Arthur straightened his shoulders. If that was the case then he needed to talk to Merlin before Nenari did. He needed the idiot to know how sorry he was. He needed him to forgive him.

"If Merlin's opinion is so important to you, allow me to have some time with him. Then you can ask him who he would prefer to serve."

After a moment's contemplation the older woman nodded her consent. "Alright; but today is Merlin's day off."

"If the deal with Lord Randal is to take place tomorrow then I must see Merlin today," Arthur insisted.

Nenari sighed before standing and smoothing out her dress. "Very well, sire. Please wait here. I'll return for you in a moment."

The second she was gone, Arthur fell back against his chair and let out a heavy sigh. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined meeting Merlin in these circumstances. Truth be told, he was a nervous wreck. The last time he'd seen his former servant they'd departed on the worst of terms. Would Merlin rather be with this Lord Randal than with him after what had happened? Arthur sincerely prayed that whatever demons were unleashed between them, they wouldn't stop Merlin from seeing just how sorry he was for everything he'd done.

Nenari returned. "He's ready for you now. Please, come with me."

Arthur swallowed back his dread and stood, taking on a role of kingly grace. Nenari stared at him with silent scrutiny before shaking her head and gesturing for him to follow. Leaving the sitting room, they reentered the main hallway but instead of walking back to one of the doors on the main floor, Nenari led him to a staircase leading to an upper level. Merlin was behind a door painted with a number three in the corner.

"I will give you half an hour, sire. Then, when I return, I'll speak with Merlin privately before sharing my decision."

"Very well," Arthur agreed. "Would you please inform my companion, Lancelot, that I will be detained for some time and will meet him at the inn in which we are staying later tonight?"

"Of course, my lord," she said, curtsying to him.

Arthur nodded to her in thanks and took a deep breath. This was it. After months of reflection and regret he was finally going to reunite with Merlin. Facing the door, he knocked on the hard surface and entered.


	3. Chapter 3

**A large, heartfelt thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/followed/read this little story of mine. I'm rather curious to know how some of you are going to respond to the character reactions of this chapter. Please leave a review. Even if you don't agree with what I decided to write, I'd like to hear from you.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

* * *

 **Chapter 03**

The king didn't even bother to register the size or state of the room; his eyes were too busy honing in on its sole occupant.

He sat upon a luxurious bed, his torso bare, his arms and shoulders covered with a bright blue, skin-tight shrug clasped together by a silver buckle over his collarbone. A thin leather necklace wrapped around his throat and a pair of loose black trousers covered his legs. Despite the drastic change in clothing, Merlin looked the same as Arthur remembered him: tall and thin, his hair tousled about his head, his ears slightly sticking out endearingly. On the outside he looked to be in perfect health, well-fed and hygienically clean. Arthur was relieved by this but another part of him mourned, for appearances could be deceiving. He knew better than to assume that Merlin was fine. The man was in a brothel for heaven's sake!

" _Arthur?!"_ Merlin gasped, horror and disbelief masking his face as he stared wide-eyed at the sight of the king.

Arthur stood there awkwardly, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. For months he'd played out countless conversations of how he would address this man when their paths crossed again but now that he was here he had no idea what to say. For the first time in his life he had no idea how to talk to Merlin. How could he? The last time he'd seen him, he'd destroyed everything. How was a man supposed to pick up the pieces of a friendship he'd mercilessly shattered?

In the end what came out of his mouth was something entirely lame and stupid.

"I never expected to find you here."

Merlin blinked but remained still.

The silence stretched on.

Arthur began to fidget, his nerves fraying under those penetrating blue eyes until he finally lost it.

"Would you _say_ something?!"

Merlin flinched and finally looked away, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. "What is there to say, sire?" he whispered.

At the word 'sire' Arthur's anger burst forth in a raging tirade. "Oh, I don't know, how about explaining to me how in the world you ended up in a place like _this?!_ I can understand if you were accidentally caught by slavers but why not simply break your bonds and leave? With all the power you possess surely it wouldn't have been difficult? The second you were thrown in here you should have escaped! Why didn't you, Merlin? _Answer me!"_

He hadn't meant to shout but his frustration over his friend's predicament was causing him to lash out. He was livid to find Merlin in such a place because it was ultimately _his fault_ that the man had ended up here. If he hadn't ordered him to leave, if he'd fought against his father instead of supporting him in allowing the knights to give chase, this never would have happened. Merlin wouldn't be here as he was now, his spirit broken and shame radiating off his body in waves. His misery was Arthur's doing and it drove the king mad having to live with that guilt.

Folding his arms, he stared at Merlin, waiting for an answer. But the man remained silent. His eyes were still downcast and his form, if possible, had shrunk even further. At the sight, Arthur's anger instantly cooled. He was such a fool. This was not the way to get answers; not when Merlin was broken like this. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he let out a weary sigh and silently berated himself.

In a more docile tone, he gently coaxed, "Merlin, please, I just want to understand. What happened after I told you to leave?"

A sob suddenly escaped Merlin's throat and tears burst forth, running down his face in waves. His entire body began to quake as he weakly attempted to keep his emotions under control but it was a futile effort. The warlock broke down and Arthur's soul broke with him.

Never in his life had the king seen Merlin so utterly shattered. He didn't know what to do but he wanted to do _something._ Feeling like an idiot, he walked over and sat down next to his best friend, placing a hand on Merlin's forearm. The warlock continued to cry and Arthur, utterly helpless, just sat there and listened.

It seemed like an eternity before Merlin took an unsteady breath and finally started to speak. As he did, his voice was hollow and low.

"I didn't exactly have a destination when I left," he whispered. "When you ordered me to… to go… something… broke… inside me. I didn't really care anymore – about anything. My magic kept me alive, hiding me from your father's knights, but honestly at the time I would have been fine if one of them had run me through… I would have welcomed it."

Arthur stiffened but kept silent. Merlin sadly shook his head, wiping his eyes.

"I didn't resist when the slave traders found me a week later because I felt like I'd lost everything. Nothing mattered anymore. I didn't feel like I had a purpose. I hardly reacted when I was sold to Nenari a few days later. The thing that woke me from my detachment was my first customer, believe it or not. For the first time I was able to realize the trouble I was in and how dire my situation was."

He paused to shudder, harrowed by the past. Taking an unsteady breath, he continued, "Before the man could… _do_ anything… my magic reacted. It did something, created some kind of illusion that put him in a trance. He fell down on the bed and didn't move for a full twenty minutes. At first I was afraid I'd killed him but then he stood up, shook his head as if to clear it, and walked out. The same thing happened with the next person to come through the door.

"You see, my magic was somehow protecting me, creating an illusion within the customer's mind that made them believe everything they were daydreaming was actually happening. It gave them the picture perfect fantasy they were craving to experience, satisfying their needs completely while leaving me untouched."

Arthur suddenly understood with perfect clarity why Merlin was Nenari's number one Pleasure. He was disgusted that the illusions clearly involved the warlock in every scenario but he was beyond grateful to learn that Merlin had never been tainted. _Wait_. He hadn't been, right?

"So you've never actually been…" Arthur faltered.

"Defiled?" Merlin hesitantly supplied, still unable to fully look at him. Arthur nodded anyway and Merlin shook his head. "Like I said, my magic's protected me this whole time. It's probably a good thing I didn't use it to try and escape the slavers to begin with; they had magical restraints at their disposal. Nenari has some too which she uses on every known sorcerer she purchases. If she knew about me, she'd have me in similar restraints and my experience here would be vastly different than how it has been. I guess that's a major reason why I stayed. I had a secure place I could hide that didn't involve me openly revealing my magic and ending up in a more precarious situation. At least here I have some semblance of control; even if it isn't the best of conditions."

Arthur shuddered at the very thought of Merlin actually having to live the life currently expected of him. While he didn't support this lifestyle at all, he could see the benefits of Merlin staying in such a place. He had a roof over his head, food to eat, and just enough privacy to work his magic without the high risk of getting caught. True, he was deceiving people again but in this particular case Arthur was beyond grateful he was. The young king hated to admit it but this might have been the best thing that could have happened to Merlin. His magic wasn't bound or known and he wasn't on the run or being physically abused. It wasn't ideal but it could have been a lot worse. Still, it wasn't the best situation either and thankfully Arthur had the means and power to change that. And change it he would.

It was as he thought this that the king realized Merlin had been sending him several nervous glances.

"Merlin?" he prompted.

"You're… not upset with me?"

Arthur stared. "Why on earth would I be upset?"

Merlin looked down at his bare feet and mumbled, "I've been using my magic to manipulate people."

"No," Arthur corrected, "you've been using it to _protect_ yourself. Merlin, if anything I'm _grateful_. I'm already feeling guilty enough over finding you here."

It was Merlin's turn to stare. "Why?"

"Because all of this is _my_ fault!" Arthur angrily cried, gesturing to the room around them. "If I hadn't pushed you away…" - He shook his head - "I regretted it the second I saw the hurt in your eyes but it was too late. I shunned you when you needed me most. I pushed you away. You have to understand, I was just so _angry_."

"Because of my magic," Merlin dejectedly whispered.

"What? _No!_ That has nothing to do with it!"

The warlock's forehead crinkled in confusion. "I don't understand."

Arthur sent his friend an exasperated frown. He really didn't get it, did he? He really was an idiot.

"We've known each other for _years_ , Merlin. In that time you became my most trusted confidant but apparently the feeling wasn't mutual. You didn't trust me."

"I trust you with my life!"

"No, you don't," Arthur snapped. "If you did you wouldn't have lied to my face all these years." Merlin flinched and the king immediately backpedaled. He was doing it again; letting his temper get the better of him. "Sorry," he muttered.

Merlin shook his head, his eyes shamefully slipping to his knees. "No, Arthur. You're right. But you must understand, I've had to lie to everyone I've ever loved or cared about my whole life. It wasn't by choice. I was born like this."

"I know," Arthur interrupted.

Merlin's explanation caught in his throat. "What?"

"I _know_ , Merlin," he repeated. Seeing his confusion, Arthur went on to explain. "After you left, and I had time to think over what happened, I went to Gaius seeking answers. He was most reluctant to give them but eventually he told me everything he knew. I now know what you've done and what you've sacrificed for me – for Camelot – for our destiny. You even continued to protect me after I cast you out." He fiddled with his magic ring before shaking his head.

"You have shown loyalty beyond any knight in my realm and you've lost and suffered more than any man ever should. And now, to find you here, in a place like _this_ …" Arthur paused again, his voice catching in his throat. The guilt and regret burning in his chest was so vast he was afraid it would consume him. "I am truly sorry, Merlin," he brokenly whispered. "Can you forgive me for my ignorance and arrogance? Can you forgive me for what I've put you through?"

Merlin seemed to be in shock. He stared at Arthur like he'd never seen him before, his face blank, his eyes equally so. Arthur swallowed, trying to regain control of his emotions, waiting for the warlock's verdict.

"You… know?" Merlin finally whispered, his voice hoarse.

Arthur almost rolled his eyes. He'd just finished bearing his soul and the only thing Merlin could comprehend was that he knew what he'd been doing with his magic? This confirmed it. His friend truly was a complete idiot.

"Yes, _Mer_ lin," he drawled.

"About everything?" Merlin pressed.

"Everything."

"And you don't hate me?"

"Of course not! How could I?"

And then the idiot was crying again, leaving Arthur completely and totally bewildered, unsure exactly how to handle his reaction. The royal sat there, stumped, until Merlin latched onto him, holding him tight and burying his face in his shoulder. Arthur stiffened as straight as a board, his mind exploding with panic and indecision. Merlin was _hugging him_.

Dear Albion, _what was he supposed to_ _do?!_

His initial response was to shove the idiot away and give him an earful. But then he had the thought that maybe he should reciprocate the gesture and mutter some nonsense about everything being okay. The thought made him incredibly uncomfortable. The only person he'd ever performed the latter actions with was Guinevere but she was his betrothed and Merlin most definitely was not. Their current state was entirely inappropriate and yet, for some reason, Arthur couldn't find it in him to toss the man as far as he could throw him. Resigning himself to a decision he never thought he'd have to make, Arthur relaxed and loosely wrapped his arms around Merlin's bare torso, awkwardly holding him as he cried.

"It's alright," he whispered.

"I thought you h-hated me," Merlin sobbed, his voice choked with tears. "I s-stayed here because I didn't think you wanted me anymore."

So that was it? All this time…?

An exasperated smile lifted the king's cheeks as he gently rubbed his hand up and down Merlin's upper back.

"How can the Once and Future King do everything that's expected of him without Emrys?" he asked rhetorically before warmly adding, _"Of course_ I want you, Merlin. I can't create Albion without you."

A weak chuckle escaped the warlock and he finally found the strength to pull away from their embrace.

"So you know about that –about us."

Arthur leaned back, this time really rolling his eyes in fond irritation. _"Yes, Mer_ lin, I already told you I know everything now. Well, at least everything Gaius knows. But I'd like to hear it all from you, if you'd be willing to come with me."

"Why wouldn't I want to?" Merlin asked, confused.

"I don't know, maybe because I'm a total arrogant prat that's basically treated you like a slave all these years?" Arthur bitterly answered.

"Arthur, you didn't know."

"Ignorance can only be used as an excuse for so long, Merlin," he replied sourly. "I treated you horribly. I disrespected you and your kin. All my life I've followed my father's ways, never even bothering to question his views on magic. I learned the hard way that he was wrong about so many things, the greatest being magic. His nescience and hatred towards your people ended up destroying him. He became deranged at the end of his life, believing that every person who offended him was a sorcerer and needed to be put to death.

"I watched him murder so many people, Merlin. Men, women, children _– all slaughtered._ At first I shamefully did nothing but, after learning the full truth about you, I could no longer stand idly by. I fought against him, advocating people's innocence, helping them flee before they could be killed, but my father retaliated by placing me under house arrest. I was confined to the citadel and I couldn't go anywhere alone. I'm afraid, because of that, my knights and most of the castle guards became privy to Gaius's stories about us as well when I would visit him."

Merlin paled. "You mean they know? About everything?"

Arthur smirked. "Every knight in the realm knows of our destiny as well as the many heroics you've performed for Camelot. Don't look so glum, Merlin. You're a champion in their eyes. They were all quite supportive of my decision to search for you. Forgive me for taking so long, though; there were several transitions the castle had to undergo once I took up the crown."

"I don't believe this," Merlin muttered skeptically. "The last time I saw them, they wanted to kill me. Now you're telling me they see me as some kind of hero?"

"Not every knight wanted to kill you, Merlin," Arthur corrected, "Just the misguided ones who were desperate to prove themselves to my father. None of those belonging to our Round Table group participated in the search. If I recall correctly, Lancelot and Gwaine defended you when my father gave the order to have you killed. The point is, all the knights respect you now. You have nothing to fear from them."

"I can't believe it," Merlin whispered, clearly stunned by Arthur's revelations. Shaking his head, he continued to mutter, "Actually, I can't believe _any_ of this. You're really okay with it? Me having magic?"

"Merlin, if I wasn't would I even be here looking for you?"

And there it was; the thing Arthur had missed the most: Merlin's face lifted into a genuine smile.

"I suppose not," he chuckled.

Arthur clapped his hand on his warlock's back, laughing too. When the moment sobered, the king stood and held out his hand. "Well then? Are you ready to come home, old friend?"

Merlin's eyes glossed over but this time the tears were ones of hope and happiness. He took the king's hand and stood. "Yes, sire, I am."

Arthur smiled before acting on impulse and pulling Merlin into another embrace. "Such a girl," he chuckled as Merlin let out a strangled laugh against his shoulder.

"You're one to talk," the warlock emotionally quipped, "Two hugs in one day? Whatever is the matter with you, Arthur Pendragon?"

Arthur broke the embrace, playfully shoving the warlock away from him. "Temporary insanity, I think." The two shared a grin but then the reality of their situation descended upon the king like a cloud. Sobering, he sighed. "Listen Merlin, while I would love to simply walk out of here with you by my side, complicated matters must be dealt with first."

Merlin frowned, sitting back down on the bed. "Right," he looked up sheepishly and confessed, "I guess I forgot for a moment that I'm a slave."

Arthur winced at the word, personally offended that Merlin would call himself such even if it was the truth. "I'm going to change that," he vowed. "I'm trying to solidify a deal with Nenari allowing me to purchase you but one of her conditions is that you need to be okay with the arrangement."

Merlin blinked, clearly stunned by the revelation. "I didn't think she'd give me up to anyone."

"Well I'm afraid she already did," Arthur grumbled. "Some pompous fool named Lord Randal made an accord with her earlier today."

" _What?"_

Arthur watched as horror and fear filled his friend's eyes.

"I'm not going to let him have you, Merlin," he adamantly promised. "I told Nenari that I would pay ten times of whatever amount he offered. She seemed to like those odds but she also, in her own strange way, cares about you. She firmly believes that Lord Randal will treat you well. She doesn't know what I will do which is why I persuaded her to let me meet you today, to see how you felt about me; if you preferred me over him."

Arthur froze, his face going red as he realized what he'd just said. Of course Merlin completely misinterpreted his words; his face quickly became as red as Arthur's.

"I didn't mean prefer me like _that!"_ Arthur snapped, completely mortified. "I just meant she wants to know who you prefer to _serve!"_

"Obviously _you!"_ Merlin blurted out before hastily adding, "But not in _that_ way."

"I _know_ , _Mer_ lin!" Arthur snapped, clearly uncomfortable with the way this conversation had unintentionally turned. "Look, the point is that when Nenari returns she's going to give you a choice. You're going to have to convince her that you prefer being with me – but not in _that_ way – in order for you to escape Lord Randal."

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to remain by your side, sire," Merlin said seriously. "Even if I have to remain with this status forever, as long as I'm with you, I don't care what happens."

His loyalty caused Arthur's discomfort to temporarily disappear.

"Merlin," he began but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Nenari said as she entered Merlin's small domain.

"Not at all," Arthur replied. "I think we've conversed enough, don't you, Merlin?"

"I believe so, my lord," Merlin respectively agreed while keeping his gaze averted.

Arthur frowned and opened his mouth to confront this unusual servile behavior when Nenari cleared her throat.

"If you've concluded your business, may I speak with Merlin alone, sire?" she asked, reminding the king of their agreement.

"Of course."

Arthur began to move towards the door.

"Sire, wait."

Pausing, he turned around to find Merlin staring at him intently. Arthur's golden eyebrows drew together.

"Merlin?" he prompted.

Instead of answering the warlock quickly removed his shrug and knelt down at his king's feet, proficiently wiping away the excess dirt that had collected on the heel and toe of his royal boots from travel. The only reason Arthur didn't vocalize a protest was because he was completely gob smacked by the gesture.

Never before had Merlin served him as he was doing now. It was standard behavior for a slave to administer to their master but Arthur didn't see Merlin's actions in this context. What he saw was a man willingly offering himself, silently pledging his love and loyalty to another he felt deserved it. Arthur was overcome. Without thinking, he smiled and tenderly ruffled the warlock's hair. Merlin lightly huffed in irritation but his eyes betrayed his happiness as he finished and stood up.

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur softly muttered before making for the exit.

Nenari, having hovered in the doorway, witnessed the entire exchange between them with silent curiosity. She smiled uncertainly at Arthur as he passed.

Once in the hallway, Arthur paused and called over his shoulder, "Nenari."

"Sire?"

"I'll wait for your decision in the sitting room where we met before."

"Of course. I'll be there shortly."

Arthur inclined his head.

Forcing himself not to look back at Merlin, he made his way down the hall.

[][][]

With his shrug now stained, Merlin opted not to wear it, remaining bare-chested as Nenari closed the door and smiled at him.

"You look happy," she commented.

Merlin tried unsuccessfully not to smile as he shrugged. "I suppose I am, Mistress."

She studied him a moment more before clicking her tongue. "He's offered to buy you."

"I am to be sold then?"

Nenari sighed. "I had every intention of hoarding you til my dying breath, Merlin, but I'd be a fool not to take advantage of an opportunity such as this. I'm sure you understand. It's business after all."

"Of course, Mistress."

Though happy with her implication of choosing Arthur's offer over Lord Randal's, part of Merlin tried not to be offended being treated like an object. In Nenari's line of work, that was what he was: a thing not a person.

"Don't get me wrong," the older woman smiled, "I do care for you, Merlin, but with the opportunities before me..." She shook her head. "Tell me though – and please tell me the truth – how do you _really_ feel about King Arthur? He said you used to serve him."

Merlin's eyes softened and a warm smile lit his face. "I did serve him, for many years. And I would gladly do so until the day I die."

Surprised, Nenari slightly frowned. "Are you certain of that? Because Lord Randal also made me an offer – one that I was originally going to accept before the king presented a higher sum for you. I confess I personally am more comfortable with selling you to Lord Randal. He's been seeing you since you first arrived. He cares for you and I know he'll treat you well. King Arthur, however, I've only heard rumors about him. He is to marry soon. Does this bother you?"

Merlin tried not to laugh.

"Not in the slightest, Mistress. The woman he is to marry is also someone I'd be willing to serve wholeheartedly. Her compassion knows no bounds."

"But don't you want love for yourself? Lord Randal may not be a king but at least you would have his ultimate affections."

Merlin tried to keep the revulsion off his face as he replied, "Honestly, Mistress, there's no one in the world I would rather serve than King Arthur."

The older woman studied him with the intensity of a hawk, a silent debate raging in her mind. After a pause, a look of wonderment crossed her face.

"You really want to be with him, don't you?"

Merlin nodded. "More than anything."

Nenari sighed and in that one gesture Merlin knew he and Arthur had won. Keeping his face hopeful, however, he pretended to be on pins and needles waiting for her verdict.

Finally the older woman threw up her hands.

"Oh alright; fine! You're his! Lord Randal may have a fit over it but I don't care. The important thing is you and I are both getting what we want: you a man you clearly want to be with and me enough gold to pay off my debts and buy a manor in the country. Right; I'll have the king collect you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Why not now?"

"I can't give you to him looking as you are!" she cried, scandalized. "Certain preparations have to be made. Even if I'm the only one who really knows who he is, I am selling you to a king. It would be bad business if I just tossed you into his care like this."

Merlin frowned in confusion but shrugged. "Whatever you wish, Mistress."

As long as he ended up with Arthur, he didn't care how long he had to wait. He'd wait forever if that's what it took. His king was worth it, after all.

[][][]

A few hours later, Merlin was just starting to doze on his bed when someone knocked on his door. Opening it, he found Galahad standing there with a strange expression on his face.

"Galahad," Merlin hesitantly greeted, "is something wrong?"

The larger man shook his head. "You're to come with me."

Merlin frowned. Normally the guardian was more cheerful than this. Had he heard that Merlin was leaving? Though they hadn't known each other long and their interactions were limited, the two men had formed a friendship – enough for Merlin to deduce that something at the moment wasn't right. Galahad was walking stiffly, his eyes focused straight ahead and his shoulders tight. He led Merlin down the staircase and through the hallway towards a door he'd never been through before. This part of the brothel was strictly off limits to Pleasures.

"Where are we going?"

"Don't speak," Galahad ordered though his voice wasn't rough, "And do exactly as I say."

Merlin was beyond confused now. And then he began to panic. Had Nenari gone back on her word and arranged for Lord Randal to whisk him away? Was Galahad leading him to a rendezvous point? If so, what was he going to do? He didn't want to reveal his magic and escape but if his suspicions were confirmed, there was no way he was going to sit back and allow Lord Randal to do with him as he pleased.

Reaching a door, Galahad grabbed a set of iron shackles from the wall and clapped them around Merlin's wrists. He then tied a rope between the links and pushed the door open, leading Merlin out into the street. This was the first time the warlock had stepped out of the brothel since he'd arrived eight months ago. Temporarily shell-shocked by all the activity around him, Merlin slightly stumbled when the rope yanked his arms forward.

Galahad glanced back. "You alright?"

Merlin nodded. "Sorry."

"Come on then," the guardian sighed. "And remember, don't speak."

Despite the lateness of the day, the market was bustling with people. Mothers carted their children through the crowds, their arms and backs laden with baskets and various wares. Men hackled back and forth over prices and Essetirian soldiers occasionally could be seen taking care of disturbances to the peace. As they walked, Merlin winced from stepping on loose rocks and twigs; his skin had gotten rather soft and unconditioned to the uneven ground since being pampered in the brothel. Many people they passed stared at him curiously; some, recognizing him for what he was, looked on with lust, others with slight distaste. A few even looked sympathetic as Galahad led him away from the colorful merchant stands towards the weapons guild. When their destination grew obvious, any thought of going to Lord Randal was banished from Merlin's mind.

The blacksmith's forge was dark and sweltering with heat, the man himself pounding a red hot piece of iron against an anvil. Merlin instinctively dug his heels into the dirt. Galahad, noticing the resistance, looked over his shoulder in regret and sympathy before tugging on the rope and forcing Merlin along. The warlock's heart began to race, his mind exploding with panic.

"Afternoon Tyson," Galahad greeted.

The man looked up from his pounding and smiled in recognition. "Gal, it's been a while." He glanced at Merlin and his smile faltered. "Is this the one?" Galahad nodded. "Poor lad. Alright, let's get this over with. Mind you, I was surprised when Nenari made the order this morning. I thought they didn't have slaves in Camelot."

"They don't," Galahad stated. "But some nobleman wants to give this one as a gift to the new king. He specifically told Nenari that he wanted it absolutely clear that he belonged to the king and the king alone. I guess there's some fear others will try to steal the slave for themselves."

Tyson snorted as he pulled a long metal rod from the fire. Its end was a brilliant orange, crafted into a rather simple shape of the Pendragon crest. "I bet the Pendragon won't accept his gift. But since this is Nenari's way of making sure the lad is claimed who are we question it?"

This most certainly was Nenari's way since Merlin knew for a fact that Arthur would _never_ have told her to brand him. Oh dear Triple Goddess, they were going to _brand him!_

Merlin wanted to run. He had the power to do so. But if he did then they would know; they'd come after him. He would get arrested for resisting and horrible things happened to slaves who resisted. They had no freedom, no choice. But could he really just stand here and allow this to happen?

Maybe this was Nenari's way of preventing Lord Randal from trying to buy him? Maybe, in her own deranged way, she thought she was doing Merlin a favor. Or maybe, to her, branding a slave was the normal thing to do when they were purchased from her brothel. Whatever the reason, Merlin didn't support the idea at all!

Galahad yanked on the rope and Merlin stumbled again.

"Come on, lad, there's no point resisting," Tyson coaxed, speaking to Merlin as if he were a spooked horse. "It'll be quick if you don't put up a fight."

"Galahad, please," Merlin begged, his voice quivering with fear.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," he said, shaking his head. "Neither of us wants this but it needs to be done. We don't have a choice."

He then seized Merlin's wrists and pulled him over to a table where another set of restraints had been nailed into the wood. Releasing one of Merlin's wrists from the portable shackles, he immediately forced it onto the table, locking it in place before proceeding to do the same to the other one. Merlin's breathing was quick and fast, his mind caught up in terror. He was totally unprepared for what was about to happen. It was too cruel. It couldn't be real. But then Tyson appeared with the glowing hot brand in his hand and Merlin knew that this _was_ real and that he was in terrible trouble.

Before his magic could even come to his defense, Tyson forced the red hot surface into his skin, mutilating Merlin's left hand without mercy. The warlock screamed in agony, tears pouring from his eyes as he instinctively jerked backward, desperately trying to get away. To his terror and frustration, the metal shackles dug into his wrists and drew blood, preventing him from escape. It was then that he noticed the rune marks. Magical restraints; he couldn't have escaped even if he'd wanted to.

His nose filled with the horrid smell of burnt flesh and Merlin felt like he was going to be sick. Galahad grabbed him from behind and started whispering nonsense in his ears while Tyson pulled the brand away only to press it again into his other hand. The forge filled with yet another piercing scream, the warlock instinctively making a second futile attempt to break free.

His hands… Oh, dear mercy, _his hands..._

Etched into the skin, bloody and burnt, was the dragon Knights of Camelot wore proudly on their sleeves; the crest of his king, forever branded into the back of his hands, hands that had served his sovereign willingly for years.

No one could question who he belonged to now.

He was Arthur's _..._

He was _Arthur's._

Why was it that at that thought he found some semblance of happiness? Happiness over being labeled and therefore literally owned by Camelot's king?

Perhaps it was because he had been all along.

He'd stated for years that he was Arthur's man, that his magic belonged solely to him. Well, now there was a mark to prove it – two marks, actually – and even though they currently hurt and caused tears to fall down his face, Merlin experienced a sense of peace knowing that of all the marks that could be on his skin, he could be unashamed of wearing those that represented the only man he would willingly serve with all his body and soul.

This epiphany ceased his sobs, allowing him to accept his new appearance with a willing heart, his hands shaking but determination squaring his shoulders as he took several calming breaths.

"There's a good lad," Tyson nodded in approval before addressing Galahad. "This one's a man, isn't he?"

"The best I've ever known," the guardian stated unashamedly. "Merlin, I am so sorry. Are you alright?"

Merlin nodded and took a shaky breath. "I will be."

"Normally I'd let a slave wallow in their own misery but you've shown yourself to have heart," Tyson muttered. "Here, let me help you, lad."

Merlin's brow lowered in confusion but then he froze as the blacksmith's hands hovered over his shackled ones. He wasn't about to… was he?

" _ **Belucan sé cwealmnes. Gehælan sé gebroc ferjgt."**_

Merlin gasped as Tyson's eyes lit with gold, his magic flowing into the warlock's bloody wrists and burns, instantly cooling them. The pain ceased and the burns, once red, turned brown, standing out like a beacon against Merlin's white skin. They looked like they'd been there for years. Tyson took a step back and nodded, pleased with his work.

Though still shocked by this unexpected kindness Merlin managed to whisper a heartfelt, "Thank you."

The blacksmith looked a little sheepish as he rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. "Don't mention it, lad."

Galahad quickly set to work freeing Merlin from the restraints before Tyson tossed a damp cloth in his direction.

"For the blood," he explained.

Merlin hesitantly began wiping the red from the surface of his skin but there wasn't any pain as he brushed over the new divots. In awe and gratitude, he became more confident and cleared the rest of the blood away. Tyson then took back the soiled cloth and promptly threw it in the fire. Galahad handed over a bag filled with coins and thanked the blacksmith for his generosity. Tyson blushed.

"Don't get used to it," he said gruffly. "I don't use my healing abilities for just anyone. This one's got spirit. I respect a man who accepts his lot instead of blubbering over his misfortune. I hope that king he's being given to sees what I've seen. Now, off with ya, and don't go tellin' people I'm a softie or I'll tan yer hide."

Galahad laughed before placing the portable shackles over Merlin's wrists and leading him out into the setting sun.

The air was cooler than in the forge, soothing the light sweat that had coated Merlin's skin during his ordeal. As they walked back to the brothel, Merlin couldn't help staring at the new additions to his body. For a simple version of the Pendragon crest, Tyson's brand was quite beautiful. Though the brands were upside down from Merlin's point of view, he could tell Tyson had taken time to get the small indents right in the wings and even included the tongue hanging from the dragon's mouth. This proved him proud of his craft, not wanting to leave any flaw when his skills were going to be part of the property of a king. Merlin slightly smiled. It would take a while but he'd get used to the change.

Once back at the brothel, Galahad led him through the side door they'd used before. It was only after the door was closed to the outside world and Merlin's wrists were free that the guardian fully dropped his cool façade and apologized for what he'd had to do.

"It's the worst part of my job," he confessed. "Nenari rarely sells her Pleasures but when she does, she has them branded with their new master's mark. I didn't want to do it, Merlin. You didn't deserve it."

Merlin placed a hand on his forearm. "It's alright," he smiled compassionately. "I don't hold it against you, Galahad."

The guardian shook his head. "I'm going to miss you, Merlin. You have no idea how much you've effected people here. You've always been kind and cheerful despite everything you have to deal with. I admire you."

"Thank you. For what it's worth, I think you're an amazing guardian. In fact, I could see you becoming a knight some day."

Galahad laughed. "I'm afraid you have to be a noble for that."

"Not in King Arthur's court. He's knighted several commoners before. He judges a man based on the content of his character rather than by his blood."

"Is that why you're okay with this?" Galahad asked. "You feel that he will treat you well even though you are to be his slave?"

Merlin smiled. "I have all faith in him, Galahad. He's a good man."

The guardian pondered this for a moment before sending him a small smile. "If that's the case, then, who knows? Maybe one day our paths will cross again in Camelot."

"Maybe," Merlin smiled.

"Ah, you're back already?"

Both men turned to see Nenari approaching. She looked concerned until she noticed the state of Merlin's hands and smiled.

"Dear Tyson; I see you managed to charm him too. Gracious, whatever will we do with you, Merlin?"

Merlin smiled and shrugged.

Nenari chuckled. "You paid him well, Galahad?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good. Come along then, Merlin. You need to get as much sleep as possible so you can be up in time to properly prepare for your departure. I won't have you leaving the brothel looking like a stray animal."

Merlin frowned in dismay. "You're planning on dressing me up like a festival pig, aren't you?"

The older woman laughed. "Not a pig but certainly something a king would highly value. Run along, Galahad, there's plenty of work to be done."

"Yes, Mistress," Galahad said, nodding to Merlin one last time before disappearing down the hallway.

Nenari made sure Merlin made it back to his room before leaving him alone, ordering him to eat the meal on his desk and get plenty of sleep. Merlin did as asked, making sure to eat everything on the plate before lying down on his bed and studying his hands. He explored them for a long time, his fingers tracing the dragon shapes over and over again.

He couldn't imagine the agony he would still be in if Tyson hadn't healed him. A silent prayer of gratitude went out to the blacksmith. He truly owed the man a debt.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to settle his thoughts. He needed to sleep or Nenari would kill him. Willing himself to relax, he eventually accomplished his design, his fingers still lingering over the brands of the Pendragon crest.

* * *

 **I may get flames for what I did to Merlin as well as his decision to easily forgive Arthur but that's part of being a writer, I guess. You can't please everyone. I've never seen Merlin as someone to hold a grudge, especially when it's Arthur. I can see him being upset at first but mostly Merlin's nature is to see the best in others and forgive them - especially when they acknowledge they've made mistakes. Concerning the branding, historically many slaves were branded back in the day so I decided to run with it. Also, keep in mind, just because it happened doesn't mean Arthur is going to be okay with it. His reaction is coming up next.**

 **Please leave me a review. I worked really, really hard on this chapter, especially the conversation between Arthur and Merlin. More to come soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for the reviews! I'm glad most of you were okay with the last chapter. I know some expressed that they weren't okay with the brands and even where they were placed. I did a fair amount of research on branding slaves in ancient times and most of what I found stated that the marks were made in places that were visible (the face, neck, hands, feet, etc.) Out of all the visible options, I went with the hands because, for one, I was not about to brand Merlin's face - heck no! For another, once back with Arthur, Merlin's neckerchief and boots would have concealed any marks - which would have made branding him in those places pointless. I chose the hands because they held the most symbolism to me. Right, now that I've explained that, on with the fic. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

* * *

 **Chapter 04**

"Will you stop fidgeting, Gwaine? I swear, I'm beginning to wish I brought Percival along instead!"

"Can you blame me, princess?" Gwaine huffed while holding the reins to their horses. They were standing near the brothel's side entrance out of the way of flowing traffic where Nenari said the exchange was supposed to take place. "I haven't seen him in months! I want to make sure he's okay."

"I'm sure he's as fine as can be, given the circumstances," Lancelot said, he being the only other knight Arthur had allowed to tag along on this venture.

The others had wanted to come but Arthur reminded them that they could easily be identified as either elite warriors or knights if they were clustered together.

"We can't have anyone tying this affair back to me," he'd said in the confines of his room at the Black Swan. "Knights of Camelot are not even supposed to be in Essetir. If we're caught, not only do we jeopardize the kingdom but Merlin as well. I will take Lancelot and Gwaine. The rest of you wait for us on the main road half a league away from the city. From there we'll head for home."

Though reluctant, the others agreed to his plan.

"I know you're eager to see him, Gwaine, but we must keep up appearances," Arthur whispered so no one could overhear. "You must pretend that you do not know him and that he is nothing but a slave. You're here to accompany me, nothing more. Do you understand?"

"I know how important this is, Arthur," Gwaine said, his countenance sobering. "Even if I don't like the circumstances I'm not going to jeopardize the mission in a moment of zeal."

"Good," Arthur grumbled, turning back to the door. "What's taking them so long?"

Lancelot smiled. "Relax, Arthur. We've only been waiting a few minutes – and we arrived a little early."

"Yes," Gwaine grinned, "wasn't that because someone was rather eager to leave the inn?"

Arthur glared at him. "Oh, shut up!"

The door opened, cutting off further conversation, and the man who'd spoken to Arthur yesterday appeared. There was a resigned look on his handsome face as he stepped aside and placed one hand on his sword, his eyes warily scanning the crowd. Arthur was just about to ask him if he was anticipating an attack when Merlin emerged and the question fled his lips.

The shrug he wore today was Camelot red, the middle held together with a golden clasp, the ends of the material lined with further gold and the sleeves stopping halfway down his forearms. Loose brown pants of rather high quality covered his legs and a pair of leather sandals protected his feet from the ground. A golden collar was wrapped around his throat and his wrists were shackled together in iron chains. What caught Arthur's attention overall, however, were his hands.

It shouldn't have been a surprise; it was a fairly understood standard, after all, one that he should have foreseen – expected even – but to see the Pendragon crest, _his crest_ , branded into _those_ hands…

Arthur saw red.

" _YOU_ _BRANDED HIM?!"_

Before the man standing near Merlin could utter a word, Arthur's fist slammed into his face and sent him careening into the wall. Not waiting for him to recover, the king seized the brothel's guardian by the shoulders and rammed him against the side of the building, apathetic when his head smacked rather painfully against the stone. Several people were shouting somewhere behind him but Arthur didn't care enough to listen. His fingers wrapped around the guardian's throat and squeezed. The man let out a noise of protest, clawing at the royal arms holding him at bay. This only made Arthur squeeze harder. This man, this pathetic excuse for a human being, had branded Merlin. Arthur's entire soul thirsted for vengeance and nothing was going to stop him from claiming it. _Nothing!_

A hand suddenly shot out – two, actually – clad in chains.

"Ar – er – I mean, _sir_ , please, _stop!"_

"Merlin _, get off!"_ Arthur commanded, attempting to shake his hands away while not letting go in the slightest.

" _Sir,"_ Merlin reemphasized and something in his voice broke through Arthur's rage. The king turned to fully look at him and noticed the genuine panic in the warlock's eyes, the silent begging for him to cease his attempt of satisfying his anger. "He's my friend. Please, let him go."

Arthur loosened his grip but did not fully release the man. "Would a _friend_ allow another to suffer from such an affliction?"

"If the friend didn't have a choice," his victim rasped, clutching at his throat. "Believe me, the last thing I wanted was to allow that to happen."

"Sire," Lancelot suddenly whispered warningly in Arthur's other ear, "please use discretion. We are still somewhat in the public eye."

It was then that Arthur realized they'd gathered quite a few stares from the main road. Forcing his anger aside, he released the guardian and took several steps back. "My apologies," he ground out, "I didn't mean to cause offense. I was simply rather startled to see you did something to him that I did not order."

Hearing the anger and accusation in his tone, the guardian weakly explained, "It is standard protocol that all slaves purchased from the brothel be branded, your lordship. If you wish to make a complaint, I can take it to my mistress."

Arthur had every intention of doing just that but Merlin shook his head, again silently pleading with him to leave the matter alone. What was wrong with the idiot?! He'd been physically mutilated! Didn't he want retribution?!

"Please," Merlin whispered.

 _Curse Merlin and his confounded compassion!_

Arthur opened his mouth to argue when Gwaine rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave it, princess," he said, his voice filled with the same amount of anger that Arthur felt. The king noticed a small trickle of blood staining his lips as well as his rather rumpled appearance and raised an inquiring eyebrow. Gwaine shrugged. "Lancelot's doing. I would have joined you but... anyway, just pay the man and let's be on our way. Before we both end up doing something to this man -and his mistress- that we'll eventually regret."

Hating himself for not bringing the matter to justice but realizing Gwaine had an excellent point, Arthur begrudgingly reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed piece of parchment.

"Give this to your mistress," he instructed. "What was promised will be given to her in seven days time."

The man raised an eyebrow. "I was not informed that this would be the manner of exchange."

"Your mistress was," Arthur snapped. "We spoke of the details yesterday. Do not worry; the terms of our agreement will be met in full. I am a man of my word."

The man studied him a moment more before inclining his head. "Very well."

The guardian then turned to Merlin and Arthur noticed the silent concern radiating from his eyes. He said no more, however, hindered by protocol not to show any form of fondness in public for a slave. Merlin, as per his usual standard, ignored this protocol completely.

"Goodbye, Galahad," he said, smiling warmly at the guardian.

Galahad froze, glancing warily at Arthur. The king rolled his eyes. "He's already stated his farewell so you might as well too."

"You won't punish him?"

Arthur looked at him firmly and stated with all conviction, "No, I won't."

Surprised by this level of sincerity, Galahad swallowed his nerves and turned to Merlin. "Take care of yourself." He sent one last questioning look Arthur's way before disappearing back into the brothel, rubbing his neck in the process.

Arthur, knowing that he had to keep up appearances, ordered Lancelot to tie Merlin to his horse; a slave couldn't be expected to ride on the same steed as his master.

"I'll go slowly," he whispered to Merlin before settling into his saddle.

Merlin nodded in understanding, shivering slightly as a breeze ran through the streets. Arthur frowned. The first thing he planned to do once out of the public eye was give Merlin some new attire.

"Let's go," he ordered, starting the journey home.

They turned their steeds towards the city's exit but as they passed the main part of the brothel they found a rather surprising sight. Nenari stood in the midst of what they could only assume was the entire brothel staff. Galahad could be seen standing next to the girls Arthur had followed yesterday, both of whom were crying.

"Good heavens, Merlin, how many hearts am I breaking taking you away from here?" he muttered as he proceeded to move passed them.

"Merlin," one of the girls cried, "we'll miss you."

Knowing that he shouldn't speak, Merlin merely inclined his head and sent them the best smile he could muster.

"If I had this many woman pining after me, I think I'd fight you every step of the way, princess," Gwaine smirked as more women, nobles by the looks of them, lined the streets to say their goodbyes.

A few men were also caught staring, Arthur feeling their anger through the crowded market despite the distance and people separating them. One noble in particular looked like he wanted to draw his sword and run Arthur through. This man was tall and lean, his eyes lingering on Merlin with unconcealed lust. The king had a fairly good idea of who he was. Temporarily forgetting his own anger, Arthur didn't even try to hide the triumphant smirk he sent the lord's way as they passed. It wasn't missed either. Lord Randal bristled, his hand going for his sword. A friend beside him quickly grabbed his arm and whispered a few words, quelling any foolish attempt the man was planning to make. Arthur chuckled under his breath.

It took a while for them to make it out of the city, trying to keep the pace slow for Merlin's sake even though he had to walk briskly just to keep up. The warlock also had to avoid running into anyone, something that was a little easier to do since he had a horse blocking one side of the traffic. It didn't fully prevent him from bumping into a few people on occasion, however. One man he accidentally ran into actually spat in his face, calling him a clumsy oaf. Arthur had to grit his teeth and let the abuse occur, knowing it would be out of character to show overprotective concern for a slave. He tried to satisfy his anger by envisioning breaking the man's nose. It didn't help much but at least it stopped him from loosening his tongue.

A collective breath was released when the small group finally made it through the city gates. In the distance, faithfully waiting just where he told them to, were Leon, Elyan, and Percival. Leon saw them first, nudging the other two before mounting his horse. The three of them were just as appalled by Merlin's appearance and predicament as Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot.

"Just a little further, Merlin," Arthur consoled as the others joined them. "We need to get into the cover of the trees."

"Is anyone following us?" Lancelot asked.

Leon looked over his shoulder. "No one seems to be in sight."

"Too bad," Gwaine grumbled. "Part of me almost wishes there was. I don't know about you two but there were plenty of men back there that I wouldn't have minded introducing to my fists."

Merlin let out a breathless laugh. "I would have liked to see that."

Arthur smiled. "We all would, Merlin." He then raised his voice to address them all. "While I know each of you wants to dismount the second we're in the woods I don't want to take any chances. We need to keep moving. Merlin, when we're clear of the city, I want you to mount up behind me. We'll ride until we cross back into Camelot's borders and make camp somewhere thereafter."

"Understood, sire," Merlin huffed, his cheeks slightly red from the constant pace.

"Are your wrists okay?" asked Gwaine.

"I'm fine, Gwaine," Merlin assured. "Nothing a little magic can't fix. Wow, I never thought I'd be able to say that out loud."

The others smiled though they remained silently concerned. Due to movement and proximity, Leon, Elyan, and Percival hadn't yet seen the markings now scarring Merlin's hands. Arthur was sure their anger would be just as palpable as his own when they did.

He still couldn't believe that Merlin had been branded. The markings were a personal offense to him. He was the King of Camelot. His laws forbid slavery and yet here was a man he owed his life to a hundred times over bearing burns that claimed him as his! It was complete hypocrisy and Arthur hated that Merlin would have those markings for the rest of his life. Once again his earlier guilt consumed him. It was his fault that Merlin had suffered so much.

They reached the trees and Arthur halted their procession, offering Merlin his arm. The exhausted warlock gratefully accepted it and managed to mount behind him on his first attempt.

"Merlin, remove those restraints," Arthur commanded, sick of hearing the jangle of the links banging together.

Not a word was uttered but Arthur heard the click followed by the sigh of relief as Merlin freed himself from his bonds. Cutting the rope attached to his saddle, Arthur reached around, grabbed the shackles from Merlin's lap, and tossed them as far as he could into the woods. The knights let out a cheer of approval.

"Never again," Arthur whispered. "I don't ever want to see your wrists shackled again, Merlin. I won't stand for it."

"Thank you, sire," Merlin quietly muttered into his shoulder.

"Let's go," Arthur ordered before spurring his horse into a full-on canter, ending any further discussion.

Merlin's hands hastily slipped around his torso to keep himself from falling off and Arthur looked down, his eyes drawn to the Pendragon crest burned into their surface. Bile rose in his throat but the king stopped himself from vomiting over the side of his horse. Now wasn't the time to focus on this. He needed to get Merlin back to Camelot.

They'd been riding for almost two hours and were halfway to the border when Merlin suddenly straightened and called out in a panicked voice, "Arthur, _stop!"_

Startled, the king pulled on the reins, the others quickly following suit. He was just about to reprimand the warlock for his outburst when an arrow whizzed past his head and the woods filled with the angry cries of bandits.

"Seriously?" Elyan complained, hopping down from his horse and drawing his sword. "Can't we enjoy _one journey_ without running into trouble?"

"Not with our luck," Percival growled.

Arthur helped Merlin down and told him to stay near the horses before yanking his sword from his belt and preparing for a fight. He rolled his wrist and lowered his stance, his first opponent feet away from clashing his blade with his own. Right before he could strike, however, a wave of invisible force slammed into Arthur's back, causing him to stumble forward. He wasn't the only one to curse at the misfortune. He quickly tried to regain his footing, glancing up warily only to find the most peculiar sight.

The bandit he'd been about to fell was frozen in place, his mouth still open in a bloody scream, his sword paused in mid-swing. The only thing that moved were his eyes, the emotion within them filled with both panic and disbelief. Arthur lowered his sword.

What in the…?

Merlin suddenly stepped passed him, surveying the man with a click of his tongue.

"Sorry about that but I'm afraid you and your friends picked the wrong group of men to mess with."

It was only then that Arthur noticed every bandit in the vicinity was frozen in place, some mid-stride and others with their hands holding raised weapons. Each one held eyes of fear and bewilderment. It was the most disturbing thing the king had ever seen.

Merlin scratched his head, seeming completely unfazed by the fact that he'd literally just frozen at least twenty men in their tracks.

"The spell should wear off in about five hours," he mused. "I would have made it shorter but we don't want you coming after us again, do we?" He then turned to Arthur and the knights. Noticing that they too seemed to be frozen he grimaced. "Oh no, don't tell me I froze you too?"

Arthur was the first to move. "Um, no," he confessed, sheathing his sword.

"Merlin, mate," Gwaine began before shaking his head in wonder and then letting out a burst of laughter, "this is _bloody brilliant!_ You mean to tell me you could do something like this all along?"

Merlin rubbed the back of his skull and sheepishly shrugged. "Maybe not _all along_ but since leaving Camelot my magic experienced an exceptional growth spurt. I haven't experienced any limitations with using it since then."

"Incredible," Percival commented, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"I feel sorry for you, mate," Gwaine chuckled, addressing his now frozen opponent. "I hope you don't have to pee anytime soon."

"Let's go," Arthur said while trying and failing to keep a straight face.

Elyan clapped Merlin enthusiastically on the shoulder before the seven of them remounted their steeds and left the bizarre scene behind them. Arthur heard Merlin whisper a quiet spell in his ear.

"What did you just do?" he asked curiously.

"Covered our tracks."

Arthur glanced back at the ground, noticing that the horses were no longer leaving any indents in the soil. He righted himself and grinned. "It looks like we've finally found something you're good at, Merlin."

"I'm good at a lot of things, you prat," Merlin quipped, "Putting up with you being one of them."

The others laughed as thus began a round of banter that left both king and warlock exhilarated. How Arthur had missed this!

They managed to cross into Camelot's borders two hours later, each of them breathing a sigh of relief as the forest grew more familiar to their view. Percival's keen eyes caught sight of a clearing that was suitable for making camp and everyone pitched in setting things up – everyone, that is, except Merlin whom Arthur ordered to change after handing him a tunic and a pair of trousers from his own pack. It wasn't lost on anyone that the king had just offered up his own clothes but none of the knights were surprised. This was Merlin after all. The warlock gratefully accepted the clothing and disappeared for a moment in the trees, returning a while later properly covered with his brothel clothes in hand. Arthur promptly took the clothes and golden collar and threw them into the fire he'd just built. Verbal grunts of approval were heard from the others as they watched the effects burn.

It was as Merlin was rolling back the slightly longer sleeves of his white tunic that Leon noticed his hands. A gasp escaped the First Knight and Merlin looked up. Realizing a split second later what was the reason for the outburst, Merlin lowered his head and fixed his gaze on the ground.

"Merlin…" Leon began but faltered, his face filled with revulsion and sympathy.

"What? What is it?" Elyan demanded, worry in his voice.

"Those no-good, lousy blighters _branded him_ that's what!" Gwaine snarled, kicking one of the large logs in the fire.

"No!" Percival cried, horrified.

"It's nothing to be upset over," Merlin muttered, still unable to look up at the knights. "Really, it's not."

The rage from earlier returned and Arthur angrily snapped, "Of course it is, Merlin! They _mutilated_ _you!_ If I had known they were planning on doing that, I would have given specific orders for them not to. This is my fault."

" _Don't!"_ Merlin cried fiercely, finally looking up to address the king. "Don't, Arthur. It's not your fault. I was a slave to them and slaves are branded. That's the way things are. There's no point in wasting your energy being angry over something that's already said and done. I'm technically still a slave after all since you bought me."

"You're not my slave, Merlin!" Arthur cried, revolted by the very idea. "Don't ever say that!"

Merlin shrugged. "Slave or servant, I'm yours. Look, I don't mind the marks."

"How can you not?!" Arthur shouted.

He didn't understand it. How could Merlin be so calm about all of this? The words spewing from his mouth were like knives repeatedly stabbing the king. Anger and guilt swirled through his soul. It didn't help that the marks branded into Merlin's skin were the crests of _his_ house. It was like a physical manifestation of all the suffering he'd put Merlin through these past eight months. It tore at his conscience seeing them there, like they were displaying his sins for the world to see.

The knights shifted back and forth uncomfortably, watching the scene play out, not knowing whether they should give the two men privacy or sit and endure the confrontation. Merlin seemed to be fine with them staying because he didn't remain silent, answering Arthur's question with a calm yet heartfelt explanation.

"I don't mind them because they tell the truth," he said, his eyes boring into those of the king. "I was born to serve you, Arthur, and I'm _proud_ of that _._ I and my magic have always been yours. To me, these markings are just an outward expression of that statement and I would like for you to accept them. What is so wrong with me permanently displaying my loyalty? These hands have been used countless times to serve and save you. Now there can be no doubt from anyone that I give my life and loyalty to you. Even if some may think it was forced upon me, those who know me will know I wear these scars willingly for my king."

Arthur was completely and utterly speechless. Love and devotion radiated from Merlin's sincere smile as he watched him brush his fingers against the brand on his left hand. How could he smile like that? How could he be so accepting of everything he'd been through? What had Arthur done to deserve such loyalty? He couldn't understand. No one had ever given themselves so completely to him before.

An emotion Arthur didn't really fully comprehend started to bubble up in his chest and then, all at once, it released in a strangled gasp. Despite the fact that he was a king, despite the fact that he was in plain view of his knights, Arthur Pendragon seized the warlock before him in a fierce embrace and openly sobbed for the first time in his entire life.

It felt good, releasing these emotions he couldn't verbally express. They'd been building up within him for months and only now were they being expelled. It was strangely invigorating.

Merlin's hands, hands that Arthur would treasure for the rest of his life, rubbed soothing circles into their king's back.

"Forgive me," Arthur quietly rasped into Merlin's shoulder.

"There's nothing to forgive, sire."

Arthur's arms reflexively squeezed, drawing Merlin tighter to him. A half-sob, half-chuckle escaped him as the guilt and sorrow he'd carried for so long washed away from his soul. He felt light. He felt happy. He felt _whole_.

The moment lasted for quite some time and, had Arthur been aware, he would have noticed that the others witnessing it were unashamedly wiping a few tears from their own faces.

After a time, the king gathered himself enough to let go of his friend. "Thank you, Merlin," he whispered, his voice raw.

The warlock smiled. "Any time. Now, I don't know about you but I'm tired and hungry. Why don't I whip up a stew?"

"If _you're_ cooking tonight, Merlin, then I'm going to have to bust out the ale in celebration," Gwaine stated, leaping up and heading over to his pack. He returned with his waterskin, a proud grin on his face.

"You mean to tell me that's been filled with ale _this whole time?"_ Leon cried, scandalized.

Gwaine shrugged.

 _"Knights_ are _not_ allowed to _drink_ while on patrol, Gwaine!" Elyan groaned in exasperation.

"Yes, and we all know how I feel about knights."

"You are a knight," Percival pointed out.

"The most unorthodox one in the world," Lancelot added.

"And proud of it!" Gwaine declared. "Instead of worrying about what I choose to keep in my waterskin you should all be paying attention to _Merlin_ ; now _that's_ a way to cook I've never seen before."

Everyone turned. Merlin's eyes were glowing a brilliant gold, his hands waving back and forth as ingredients lifted into the air and stirred themselves into a pot of boiling broth hovering over the fire. Arthur's mouth dropped open as he watched the warlock work. The smells of delicious stew soon caught his attention and the king's stomach growled. Bowls flew through the air when the food was ready, stopping near the fire to be filled by the soup ladle before gliding gently to each of the knights. Spoons magically appeared, plopping softly into each bowl ready for use. Merlin guided the now empty pot onto the ground next to the fire and plucked his own bowl from the air, settling down to eat.

Arthur shook himself from his stupor and focused on eating. The stew was delicious; ten times better than Merlin's usual.

"Not that your food wasn't good before but this is astonishing, Merlin," he commented.

Merlin smirked. "I wonder if that tone of surprise will ever leave your voice when I use magic. Is it really such a shock that I'm naturally talented with something?"

"Yes," the king quipped. "You've been rubbish at everything else after all."

"Please, you can't tell me you've found a manservant you prefer over me."

Arthur smirked, enjoying the teasing far too much.

"And if I have? What will you do?"

Merlin shrugged. "Turn the man into a stoat and continue to serve you like I'm supposed to."

"Merlin, you can't go turning people into stoats just because you feel like it," Arthur admonished but then he comprehended what the warlock just said. "Wait, you can do that?"

Merlin pondered over the question before slowly answering, "I've never actually tried to but, like I said, I've been having unlimited success with my magic lately. Say, care to test it out?"

Arthur panicked. "Merlin, if you turn me into a stoat, I'll see that you're left to rot in the stocks for a year!"

Pretending to pout, the warlock's eyes twinkled with mirth as he sighed, "You're no fun, Arthur."

"Shut up, you idiot."

The rest of dinner was spent catching Merlin up on what had gone on in Camelot while he was gone. Some points in the conversation were unpleasant but both Arthur and Merlin were surprised to learn that after Arthur had been placed under house arrest the knights had continued his work of trying to save those falsely accused of sorcery.

"That was a very foolish thing to do!" Arthur reprimanded. "If you'd been caught, my father wouldn't have had any qualms executing you."

"He could never figure out who was responsible for the releases, princess," said Gwaine. "There were too many men conspiring against him. He would have had to slaughter his entire army to root out the problem."

"I'm just sorry I wasn't there to help," Merlin sighed.

"Don't even start," Arthur commanded. "If _you'd_ stayed, my father would have sent every man in his arsenal after you until you were dead. I think we should be thankful we didn't have to worry about saving your behind along with everyone else's."

Sensing a war was about to start between the two, Leon wisely changed the conversation by asking about wedding preparations.

"Well, now that we have Merlin, I can send out invitations to the neighboring kingdoms," Arthur said, his cheeks darkening a little over his men's grins.

"Why did you have to wait until you'd found me to do that?"

"I couldn't very well get married without you there, you idiot. Guinevere would have never forgiven me."

"Don't listen to him, Merlin," Gwaine chuckled, "you should have heard him when he told the council he refused to get married without you."

"Shut up, Gwaine!" Arthur grumbled though he was secretly pleased by the smile climbing the warlock's cheeks. Abruptly standing up, the king made for his bedroll. "Enough talk. We're still two days away from the citadel and tomorrow I'd like to get as much ground covered as possible."

The knights dutifully headed for their respective bedrolls, Lancelot offering to take first watch. Arthur was just about to lay down when he noticed Merlin walking towards the nearby stream with his arms full of dirty dishes. This had always been the standard routine of the past but now Arthur felt uncomfortable leaving the warlock to do all the work. Getting to his feet, he shook his head at the others inquiring looks and followed Merlin into the trees.

Merlin had conjured a yellow glowing sphere to see as he crouched next to the stream, his marked hands scrubbing a bowl half submerged in the water. Without a word, Arthur joined him, picking up a bowl and beginning to scrub.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like, _Mer_ lin?" he demanded, his cheeks slightly red as he avoided the warlock's gaze.

"It looks like you're trying to do my job."

"Coveting things is a sin, Merlin."

"Arthur."

The king sighed, setting the bowl aside and finally lifting his eyes to meet those of his servant. "What?"

Merlin studied him a moment and Arthur had the strangest feeling that the warlock was reading his mind. Swallowing, the king looked away.

"You don't need to feel guilty over me serving you, Arthur."

The king instantly stiffened. He'd hit the nail right on the head.

"Can you read minds?" he blurted out.

Merlin blinked. "What? Of course not."

"Then how is it that you always know exactly what I'm thinking?"

"I don't," Merlin answered and Arthur scoffed in disbelief. "No, seriously, there are times I really can't figure out what is going on inside that dollopheaded brain of yours. This just happens to be one of those instances where you're wearing your feelings on your sleeve. That, and I've gotten pretty good at reading you – most of the time." He paused to let out a sigh. "Look, the point is, you don't need to feel guilty. I _want_ to serve you, Arthur."

"But why? I don't understand. Ever since the day we met I've treated you poorly. You know that there are other servants assigned to walk my dogs and muck out my stables. Why did you never tell me off for making you do things that weren't part of your job?"

"While it _was_ rather irritating doing those things along with the regular chores and saving the kingdom behind your back I did them because you asked it of me," Merlin said with a shrug. "I'm your servant, Arthur. I like doing things for you. As strange and as foreign as it may be for you to understand, serving you brings me fulfillment. It makes me happy."

Arthur stared. "You're right; I don't understand that at all."

Merlin let out an exasperated laugh before setting aside another dish. "I guess, think of how you feel about your people. You'd protect them and give them everything they needed with your dying breath."

"Of course. It's my duty as their king to serve them."

He paused, realizing what he'd just said. Merlin smiled at him knowingly.

"And serving them makes you happy."

"More than anything," Arthur confessed, a sheepish smile growing on his face. He then let out a chuckle. "I've just become the victim of one of your wise moments again. Tell me, are those going to happen more often now that I know the truth?"

Merlin shrugged. "Maybe. Contrary to what you may believe, the clumsiness wasn't a lie. Sometimes playing the fool was though."

"To keep me in ignorance," Arthur muttered, trying unsuccessfully to keep the bitterness from his tone.

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

"Don't be. I understand why you did it. I really do, Merlin. It's just going to take me a while to not be so upset about it. I guess I'm more upset over the fact that I fell for it. I trusted you so much that I believed anything you told me, no matter how ridiculous it sounded."

Merlin placed a hand over his forearm and the new king looked up at him. "Though it might take me a while to break my lying habit, when I realize I'm doing it, I'll stop and be honest with you, Arthur. I don't want to hide things from you anymore."

Arthur looked down at the Pendragon crest standing out like a beacon against Merlin's pale skin. Without thinking, he took Merlin's hand and tentatively ran his thumb over the mark, feeling the indented flesh. It looked like the burn had been there for years.

"Did it hurt?" he quietly asked. It was a stupid thing to inquire. Of course it hurt!

"Yes," Merlin softly answered anyway.

"Did you heal it?"

"No, actually. The blacksmith did almost right after he branded me." Arthur looked up in surprise and Merlin smiled. "People who inflict pain on others are not always monsters, Arthur. Sometimes the heinous acts they must commit are done because they are bound by laws and contracts. The blacksmith, Tyson, was a good person. So was Galahad. And Nenari, for that matter. Each of them, however, have duties that they must perform to maintain their livelihood. I know I've done many things to protect you that caused others pain but I did them because they protected you and our destiny. I also know that you have had to do things against your better judgment. People aren't perfect, Arthur."

The king sighed. "We're definitely complex, that's for sure."

He continued to trace the dragon on the back of Merlin's hand, observing with reluctant acknowledgement that the crest was well crafted. He thought about what Merlin had said earlier, that this was a physical manifestation of his loyalty.

"They really don't bother you?"

Merlin smiled and shook his head. "I was terrified of being branded at first but then, when I thought about it, instead of seeing them as a mark of slavery, I saw them as a mark of devotion to you. I decided that I could accept them because of that."

"Then I accept them as well," Arthur muttered, "and I will never question your loyalty again, Merlin. I trust you more than any man."

"As I trust you, sire."

Arthur's heart swelled but he didn't let his emotions get the best of him this time. The moment back by the fire was one they were never going to speak of again.

"Thank you, old friend."

After a while of listening to the steadiness of the stream and the music of the night, Arthur picked up another bowl and started scrubbing it in the water.

"Arthur, you don't need to do that."

"You're right," Arthur said, finishing the task and starting on another bowl, "I don't. But that doesn't mean that I can't. If I want to sit down beside you and wash some dishes then I'm well within my rights to do so. I'm the king and I can do as I please."

Merlin's grin was as bright as the sun as he turned back to his own bowl and rinsed it clean.

For the next ten minutes Arthur helped Merlin wash, dry, and put away all the dishes before they both crawled onto their bedrolls, ignorant of the knights silently observing them with proud smiles.

* * *

 **Bromance galore in this chapter! Hope you all enjoyed it. Next should be the end. Please leave a review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

* * *

 **Epilogue**

The white walls of Camelot came into view two days later and Arthur's heart swelled with happiness and joy at seeing his beloved city. It was his first love, a place where his soul felt safe and whole. It was home. He smiled and had to rein in the urge to spur his horse into a full out run, so eager was he to get behind those protective walls.

"It's been a long time," Merlin whispered nervously behind him. "Maybe I shouldn't go with you."

"Merlin, I didn't scour the entire countryside and part of Essetir only to have you stay in the woods after finding you. There's nothing to be scared of. Everyone knows you have magic and, while there may be some who are bigoted like my father, most have accepted you as I have. Now, come on; let's go home."

When the gates came into view the posted guards let out a shout and sent a runner to the citadel after spotting them. Arthur heard Merlin let out a nervous breath as they came through the gates and part of the king sorrowed over his friend's fear. He could only pray that those who opposed magic wouldn't lash out at the sight of him. He wanted Merlin's return to be a positive experience.

He needn't have worried, for the streets were lined with friends and confidants, many cheering over the return of their king and his success. When they reached the citadel the courtyard was filled with knights, servants, and soldiers. All of them shouted for joy and called Merlin's name, welcoming smiles on their faces. The nobles and councilmen waiting on the steps, however, held a mixture of both pleasure and distaste over seeing the warlock seated behind the king. Arthur knew the biggest opposition they would face would be within those of the nobility but he was willing to fight for Merlin until his dying breath. The man would do the same for him, after all.

The greatest reward for the king, however, had to be watching Gaius and Guinevere as they rushed over and crushed Merlin in tear-filled embraces the moment he'd slipped down from the horse. Merlin laughed and cried over their antics, reassuring them over and over again that he was alright and promising to tell them where he'd been at a later time. Both noticed the brands but before they could fully vocalize their distress Merlin muttered that he'd explain everything later.

Arthur had just finished handing the reins of his horse to a stable boy when his attention was suddenly seized by his bride-to-be. Guinevere completely surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and delivering a kiss that honestly left him speechless. The aroma of lavender hovered around her like a moth to flame, enriching his senses and leaving him desirous to whisk her away from prying eyes. The king looked down at her in a daze, completely unaware of the cheers of approval coming from most of the people in the courtyard.

Guinevere's smile was warm and welcoming, pride radiating from her lovely brown eyes. "You brought him home," she whispered, her thumb gently gliding across his jaw line.

"Just as I promised," he grinned. "And now we can focus on what's most important – besides fulfilling destiny, that is."

"And what is that?"

"You and me," he stated, this time instigating the kiss himself.

"Save it for the wedding night, you two!"

"Shut up, Gwaine!" Arthur called over his shoulder as he took Guinevere's hand and started up the steps into the citadel. He paused however, glancing back to see Merlin still standing at the base of the steps. "Come on then, you idiot," he called. "There's work to be done."

Merlin's grin was large as he mounted the steps. "I'm not even back for five minutes and you already have things for me to do? Geez, you really are a heartless prat."

Arthur flicked his ear. "Of course I have things for you to do, Merlin. As First Advisor to the King you're going to be just as busy as I am planning for the wedding. Not to mention the duties you'll have to take on once we legalize magic and make you Court Sorcerer."

Merlin tripped on the stairs and Arthur had to grab his arm to prevent him from falling and breaking his nose.

"Good heavens, you weren't kidding about the clumsiness, were you?" Arthur said cheerfully, enjoying Merlin's astonishment way too much.

Guinevere swatted his arm. "I thought you would have told him already," she chastened.

"And ruin a moment like this?" Arthur laughed as they entered the castle. "I've been waiting for _years_ to make Merlin speechless!"

The warlock's jaw finally started working at the sound of his king's jeering triumph.

"I can't be your First Advisor or your Court Sorcerer!"

Arthur stopped in the hallway, turning to face his friend with an amused smirk. "You don't have a say, Merlin."

"But – what about being your manservant?"

"I've had a new manservant for eight months, Merlin," Arthur said, rolling his eyes, "and no, you're not going to turn him into a stoat – as much as I would enjoy the spectacle. George may be the most efficient manservant I've ever had but he is quite dull compared to you."

"Then fire him and rehire me!"

Arthur pretended to debate over it before shaking his head. "Sorry, nope, I think I prefer you as First Advisor. Court Sorcerer later yes, but, like I said, we have to legalize magic first. Don't you agree, Guinevere?"

The maiden shook her head in amusement. "You know how I feel about the matter, Arthur. Merlin, no one else can fill these positions but you. You have to take up the role as First Advisor or the councilors might start a war amongst themselves over the position."

"And we can't have that," Arthur stated. "It looks like once again you'll have to make sacrifices and become a nobleman, Merlin. I don't think it'll be too hard. You already have a talent of speaking your mind even when others might not like what you say."

"I – you –"

Ignoring his spluttering best friend, Arthur turned to Guinevere. "Did you do as I asked?"

"Everything should be ready," she said in the affirmative. "The staff was rather enthusiastic when I enlisted their help. Rachel made up several outfits – all which will need to be tried on and mended for size, of course – and George took it upon himself to direct the others on organizing the tower. There were a few things we were afraid to move down in the vaults, however. Gaius said it would be best to wait until Merlin could inspect them so we left them alone."

Arthur hummed, excited as well as pleased by the news. "Excellent. I knew I could count on you, Guinevere."

"What on earth are you two going on about?" Merlin demanded, exasperated, as he followed them down the hall. "What's ready? What outfits has Rachel made? What things in the vaults are you saying I need to inspect? What is going on?"

They reached the end of the corridor and turned into a hallway that led to what Arthur had always grown up knowing to be a dead end. Now a doorway stood plain to their view, a small set of steps leading up to a handsome wooden door.

"Hang on," Merlin paused, "this wasn't here before."

"You're right," Arthur agreed. "My father had the hallway sealed off when the Purge began. You're looking at the entrance to your new chambers."

The king pointed to the plaque on the wall which read in simple letters _Court Sorcerer_.

Merlin looked faint. "W-What?"

"You'll find every bit of magical artifacts Camelot has collected over the years inside, Merlin," said Guinevere with a large smile. "Lord Geoffrey had a lot of fun organizing the books he's been hoarding and Gaius made sure to give suggestions on where to keep the magical things in the antechamber."

"I… I think I need to sit down," Merlin muttered, his knees knocking together unsteadily.

"Then let's do so in your new quarters," Arthur grinned, taking his best friend by the arm and marching him up the steps.

The room was huge. To the left was something of a work station, a table standing in front of a long counter lined with jars of herbs, magical instruments Arthur couldn't identify, and a variety of tools. Along the wall was a bookshelf partially filled with what the king could only assume were spell books that the record keeper had hidden under Uther's reign. The right side of the room was more like a living area, a table and chairs standing near a large open window. A staircase lined the walls leading up to the Court Sorcerer's private living space. Large tapestries sporting Camelot's colors and forested areas decorated the walls. Arthur approved of everything he saw and could definitely see Merlin settling in quite nicely within such an environment.

Merlin himself looked around the room, completely and utterly speechless. Arthur, sensing that the idiot was about to fall over, guided him over to a chair.

"What do you think, Merlin?" Guinevere asked a little nervously.

The warlock remained silent for the longest time and then a faint grin lit his face. "There's magic in this room."

"Of course there is," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "It _is_ the Court Sorcerer's chambers after all. Do you like it?"

Merlin's grin grew even more as he came out of his previous shock. "I love it!" he cried enthusiastically.

"Good." Arthur clapped the warlock on the shoulder and smiled. "Welcome home, then."

Merlin let out a few deep breaths to steady his emotions. "This is going to take a while to get used to."

"I'm willing to exercise patience," Arthur offered.

The warlock snorted before standing up and beginning to pace.

"I'm not going to make things easy," he said, pausing to glance over his shoulder at the king.

"When have you ever?" Arthur retorted, the same wicked glint entering his eye that was already shining within the warlock's.

"There may be times I experiment in here that might damage the castle."

"Then I'll make you clean up the mess."

"And I'm not just going to do whatever you say."

"There's nothing new."

Both king and warlock shared a grin before Arthur held out his forearm. Merlin clasped it at once and something passed between them.

It was a new dawn and Albion was on the horizon.

It would take a lot of work but Arthur knew that together they could do it. He stared down at the mark on Merlin's hand and smiled. Right then and there he made a vow that no matter what it took he'd spend the rest of his life striving to be the man Merlin expected him to be – for that was the only way for him to unite Albion and truly become the Once and Future King.

The king worthy of Emrys.

* * *

 **What can I say? I'm a sucker for happy endings. This was always meant to be a short story so I hope you all enjoyed the journey. Thank you for your previous comments and for taking the time to read this. If it's not too much trouble, please leave me with one last review. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the ending and the story as a whole. Until another time, another story. Happy reading! -Pumpkinmoose22**


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